


Northern Lights

by PandoraCleo



Category: Captain Marvel (2019)
Genre: Alternate Norse Religion & Lore, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Vikings, Animal Sacrifice, Arranged Marriage, Blood, Blood Sharing, Blood and Gore, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Gift Fic, Holiday Fic Exchange, Holiday Yonvers 2019, HolidayYonvers2019, Pagan Gods, Sex, Vikings, Yonvers - Freeform, Yonvers Winter Holiday Exchange 2019, completely historically inaccurate, reluctant bride
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2021-03-28
Packaged: 2021-04-18 02:01:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 68,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21772336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandoraCleo/pseuds/PandoraCleo
Summary: Vers, daughter of Cøja, grand daughter of the God of light, and fierce Viking warrior of Skūlløs, is being forced to marry a Rus Prince in order for her people to survive the harsh Winter. Will the Gods shine on her and bless her with love or heartache?Completely historically inaccurate representation of Vikings and Norse mythology, so please don't hate me. I did rely mostly on wiki and the History channel.Holiday Yonvers 2019 gift fic.
Relationships: Carol Danvers & Maria Rambeau & Monica Rambeau, Carol Danvers & Yon-Rogg, Carol Danvers/Yon-Rogg, Chewie | Goose & Carol Danvers
Comments: 76
Kudos: 92





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FairyRingsandWings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyRingsandWings/gifts).

Ice cold wind howled through the fjord, whipping up the slate grey water which refused to turn to freeze, despite the efforts of the frost gods. It felt like a thousand knives sliced into her very bones, as if her flesh had been merely a fine layer of cloth enshrouding her soul. It was a cold which stole the very breath from your lungs. Yet it was a cold she would bear to gain one last look at the place she called home. 

She had been raised in this valley, grown amongst the tall pines which flowered in spring, swam in the water during the summers of her youth. Trained with her brothers, toiled on land with her father and prayed to her gods all in this place.

This was not the first time she had left her lands; she had been granted permission by her Earl to join the raids of the past five summers. Each time the journey came with the risk that she may not return, instead she might be welcomed through the gates of Valhalla and join her brothers and father once more. Yet that fate was uncertain, it would only come to pass if she failed to please her gods and fall in battle. Knowing for certain she would never return held a different weight.

Vers was a formidable warrior, one the best shield maidens of her tribe, her skills were to rival Freydis herself. She could best any man she met in the field. This is why she had been chosen by their Earl to represent her tribe on their yearly raids. It was also her skills which had placed her in this predicament.

Their Earl Tåløs had announced that a challenge would be held to appease the gods. That the victor would be held chief amongst all shield maidens and bestow great honour to her family and their tribe. Vers could not resist. When her mentor F'ūry had approached her and insisted she did not participate, Vers naturally ignored him. She would not be denied the chance to prove herself to her gods or her people. So she fought and won, and was awarded the honour of being her people’s saviour.

She had not known that this honour would be the role of sacrificial lamb. The winter had been harsh this year, despite the bounty they had gained from the raids it had not been enough. Their King had grown greedy and kept more than he needed for himself, leaving many of the tribes under prepared. Without goods to barter for food their stores were running low. So they needed to trade with goods of other value.

Skūlløs could not trade with the other Viking villages of the west and north, if they showed their weakness they would be attacked or forbidden from raiding in the future. Their only option was to look to the south east, to the Rus. The largest Rus settlement, Hæla, had offered the assistance and alliance Skūlløs required for the price of a worthy daughter. A warrior to breed strong stock and ensure they could defend themselves should the alliance break, and Skūlløs turn on them.

So a tournament had been held; she had been it's victor and now was destined to leave her lands behind to ensure their survival. She would not run, she would not dishonor her people. Instead she had climbed to the highest point in the valley to look down on her home, to burn it into her mind's eye and say her final goodbyes.

She heard the distinct crunch of snow underfoot and she turned to find her shield sister Måria ascending the hillside. "I thought I would find you here" Måria called out against the wind, Vers merely turned back to her silent contemplation. "Mårvēll has been looking for you. You need to prepare for our guests."

"For a witcher woman and oracle, shouldn't she have known I was here?" Vers sourly bit back at her friend.

"She did, and she also knew you wouldn't come back if she came herself." Måria panted as she finally joined her friend. Måria looked at her friend with sadness, she didn't want to lose Vers but her sacrifice meant Måria and her daughter Mønicå could survive the winter. She would be forever grateful for such a gift. 

Vers loved Mønicå as if she were her own blood, it was Vers’ love for the girl which she used to help soothe her fears over this upcoming match. On the dark days of her new life, she would think back on Mønicå, remember her smiling face and cheeky laugh and know she still lived her life, she still climbed trees and fought with the boys of the town because of Vers. The sacrifice and gratitude remained unspoken between the women, there was no need to speak of it. It was known.

"You need to come and prepare before they arrive, the cleansing ritual must be completed. You can't avoid this forever." Måria pleaded with her.

A horn sounded deep within the valley, it herald the arrival of ships, both women looking to the horizon, noticing a cluster of ships making their way through the neck of the fjord. The Rus had arrived, her time amongst her people was coming to an end. "It seems not…" Vers whispered to the wind.

* * *

The sounds of celebration rumbled through the hall, cheering and the clinking of goblets. Her kin had welcomed their visitors with open arms. As promised they brought with them enough food, livestock, and grain to last Skūlløs through two frosts of the fjord. It was a plentiful bounty in payment of her freedom.

Vers and Måria had arrived in time to witness the end of the procession, Tåløs was laughing with a man as tall as a giant, guiding him and his party into the long hall. He must have been the Rus' leader, but she paid him no mind, she would meet him soon enough. She had spent the remainder of her day preparing for the evening festivities where she would be presented as their prize. 

Måria had washed Vers’ body whilst Mårvēll anointed her with sacred herbs, whispering the words of their gods, singing to her ancestors and her family beyond the veil, calling them to watch over her and bless her. She was then carefully dressed in a long wool gown, then layered with furs to keep her warm despite the oppressing heat in the hall. She was then adorned with gold from the mountains, jewels from her victories, and pearls from the north sea. Finally a white warrior's paint was carefully applied to her face, ruins above her eyes, and an arrow down the bridge of her nose, to symbolise her status as a warrior. Ruin stones and feathers were then carefully braided into her hair.

All the while the din the great hall had grown louder as meade flowed freely and the revellers rejoiced. She had been left alone when they were finished, left to wait until she was collected. Vers waited a few long moments before sneaking in and spying on the festivities.

The great hall was flanked on both sides by a series of screens and tapestries. These allowed the slaves to come and go without needing to be seen. It also afforded Vers the same curtoursey, allowing her to prowl the hall and watch its occupants without scrutiny herself. 

Men from both tribes were clustered around tables sharing meat, meade, and women. She listened to them, to the stories they shared, about raids in foreign lands, of warriors whose names she knew and some she didn't. Some spoke of her new home, but nothing that could give her a true sense of the place. She looked at them all, they were so different from what she knew. Where her brethren wore leather and pelts, these foreigners wore thick finely woven cloth trimmed with fur. Where the men of her tribe wore their hair long with braids, these men had short hair, hidden under fur lined bowls for helms. Her kind were blonde, they were dark.

A booming laughter rang through the hall catching her attention. The giant of a man whom she had seen earlier was lounging next to her chieftain, both of whom looked well into their cups, laughing at some story. She could not see him properly from where she stood, so she moved closer. He was clearly their leader, to be seated next to her Earl as such, and must be the man she was to marry. Who else would demand a tested warrior and not simply take some young girl from her village that caught his eye? 

She came to the last screen along the hall and peered through, trying to catch a better look at the man. The angle he had positioned himself made it difficult for her. There was little point crossing the hall, as the other side would only allow her to see his back.

So she looked at what she could. His shoulders had a broad set to them, he was tall and wide, much like Thor, he looked a strong warrior, she wondered if he wielded a hammer as well. His hair was long and shiny, unlike that of his people, it swept past his shoulders. He was dressed in deep blues and greens. His face was partly obscured from this angle, but she caught the lines of a strong chin and high cheekbones. 

She stood on her toes to try for a better look, but the heavy layers of her furs caused her to sway slightly. She placed her fingers through the hole in the screen to balance herself, whilst she craned to see more. There was a movement to the left of her, and then she was suddenly staring into a pair of gold eyes which looked back at her through the screen. They bore into her, and despite her fingers having purchase on the smooth wood of the barrier which shielded her, she had never felt more exposed in her life.

She did not flinch or retreat, although she did feel a mild embarrassment for being caught spying. The man slowly moved the tapestry he was standing in front of and peered through to see her more clearly. His face was cast in shadows as the fires in the hall burned behind him, yet his eyes were lit like flames, catching their light and exuding warmth. A soft smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He looked at her with curiosity, she must have looked a sight hiding in the shadows in full ceremonial dress.

"Do shield maidens normally sneak around spying?" The stranger asked her, with amusement and curiosity in his voice.

"It’s not spying, its reconnaissance.” She tersely replied “Besides, how do you know I’m a shield maiden?"

The man drew a finger down his nose, indicating her markings.

"And who may you be?” He enquired with a kind voice.

"I am Vers, daughter of Cøja, warrior of Skūlløs." She held her head high as she introduced herself. She was proud of her family and title, even if it meant nothing to this stranger.

"Ahh… The mighty Vers; your reputation as a skilled warrior precedes you. Is it true you single handedly fought one hundred Normans and took the fortress of Degar in the western raids last year?" he enquired

She scoffed at his question, it was interesting to see how tales grew with exaggeration as they passed from person to person. It had been ten Normans, and the fortress was merely a wooden encampment. She and Måria had grown bored two summers prior, waiting for the others to return from scouting suitable grounds to make camp. The pair had wandered away and stumbled across the makeshift encampment. They took the Normans easily, and claimed the encampment for themselves, saving their party from wasting valuable time to establish a base elsewhere.

"Of course not, it was _ two _ hundred Normans and my shield sister Måria was there also. We took a hundred each." She boasted, not wanting to ruin a good story.

He saw through her fake bravado and smiled. He knew she jested.

“And you? Do you have any grand stories for your own raiding? How many Normans or Celts have you sent to their maker?” she asked her stranger.

“Not nearly as many as you it seems, it has been many years since I went west. The last western raid I went to ended in the battle of Cynwit. We now concern ourselves more with lands to our east and south, towards the Turks and Caliphates.” he informed her.

She remembered the battle of Cynwit, it had been her first raid west. It was bloody and almost resulted in her death. She had been young, and untested in such a melee. She had been locked in combat with a Saxon, his axe had embedded itself in her father’s shield. She was so focused on freeing the shield, the last token of the father she had lost, that she had not seen another approach from behind. It wasn't until a shadow loomed above her that she turned, only to see a sword overhead, poised to swing down and rend her in two. 

He had been shot through the eye with an arrow before he could land the blow. She had never known who had saved her, but she was thankful and the close call had caused her to realise she needed to be more careful. It drove her forward to hone her skills to become the warrior she was today.

“Have you ever been east?” he asked her curiously.

“No I have not, our King only has eyes for the west.” she answered, wondering briefly what the lands to the east of the Rus kingdoms were like.

“Pity!” he said as he settled himself against the screen, crossing his arms and leaning his left shoulder on the edge. “At times it can be quite beautiful. We once claimed a stronghold with a tower so tall you could touch the clouds, it sat so high on a mountain you could see all the way to the Caspian sea.” he told her with a wistful tone. She smiled warmly at his story, it seemed magical, to be as high as the gods.

Since they were on the subject of ridiculous stories, she decided to slyly satisfy her own curiosities “Is it true your chieftain is descended from a giant?” she nodded her head in the direction of the man by Tåløs. 

“Ronan?” he laughed at her question “I can see why you might think that, but no - giants aren't real.”

“How would you know? Have you ever met one?” she challenged him with a cheeky smirk.

“No, have you?” he challenged her right back. She liked this one.

“Of course! I slayed one last week. He was very grumpy and tried to eat my cat Goose. I hope he wasn't a relation of your Earl?” she enjoyed goading him, she liked the warm smile he wore and how the skin around his eyes crinkled with amusement.

“Shield maiden _ and _giant slayer, I’m impressed. You are indeed a formidable warrior.” He chuckled at her, the smile on his lips warmed her, she had the sense they were not easily given. “So has your reconnaissance mission been successful? What is it that you seek?”

“I wanted to look upon the man I'm about to be forced to marry, preferably before I’m paraded around like a prize.” she couldn't stop the bitterness she felt seeping into her words. Vers knew she should be careful, that she could not trust this stranger, even if she did enjoy their banter. He was Rus and as far as she was concerned also her enemy.

He considered her carefully “This does not please you? Many women would kill to be in your place to marry a prince, to be elevated to such a position. Or perhaps you are upset as you already have a lover?" 

Vers scoffed once more "I have no lover, I found none worthy of my time. Although had I known this would be my fate I would have taken one sooner." 

"Is what you see before you so repulsive?" The man seemed offended by her statement. She found it curious, perhaps his loyalty to his Earl and _ prince _ran deep, so he was offended on the giant’s behalf? In her tribe insults over a man’s poor looks were laughed at in jest, no offence was ever taken, as appearance was never linked to a person’s honour.

“I wouldn't know, all I can see is long limbs and Tåløs’ head. I've seen more of you than him.” She looked him up and down, to emphasise her point. He shifted under her gaze, amusing her with his discomfort. She sighed with resignation ”Besides, it has been decided by my gods and yours, I have no choice in the matter.” 

“We only have one God, but if in His Supreme Intelligence he has delivered you to us then we must be thankful for his blessing.” _ One God? _ His statement shocked her. Not only was she to leave her people and her home, but she must walk away from the lands of her gods into a world of heathens?! She stared at him in silence, her heart breaking at such a thought.

Tåløs stood and the hall fell into silence, all attention on him. The man she was talking to turned his head away and she felt a small amount of loss of no longer being the subject of his gaze. She was once again not where she was supposed to be, yet this time she would be missed. She turned to escape back to the room where no doubt Måria and the slaves were panicking that she had fled in the night. As she departed, she did not know that golden eyes watched her retreat.

She returned to the room and found a group of anxious slaves and a very annoyed Måria. “Where have you been?” Måria admonished her.

“In the hall” there was little point in lying.

“You can't be seen before you are presented, what were you thinking?” Måria chided her.

“I wanted to see the man for myself, before I was paraded around like livestock!” Vers snapped back.

Måria looked at Vers sympathetically as she stepped forward and embraced her friend. Stepping back she made the final adjustments to Vers robes. They were then led into the hall by the slaves. 

Vers stood at the opening of the hall, and took in the scene in front of her, all the faces were turned from her, focused on their leaders. Tåløs stood in front of his throne, dwarfed by Ronan who stood a few feet taller. For a brief moment she enjoyed the peace, and tried to calm her nerves. 

She could be calm in the face of a horde of men charging her, but at this moment, the thought of simply walking to the other side of the room was terrifying. She looked for the man she had talked to, she thought she saw him move his gaze away from her back to their leaders when she spotted him.

She was forced to do the same when Tåløs called for her “May I present to you Vers, daughter of Cøja, granddaughter of Baldr, God of light, and warrior of Skūlløs.” 

All eyes turned towards her. She felt Måria nudge her forward when she did not move. She slowly walked towards the dias with her head held high and back straight. She would not be intimidated by this giant of a man. When she arrived at the base of the platform, she bowed slightly to both men.

When she looked up, she saw cold brown eyes look down on her. She felt as if all the fires in the hall had been extinguished in that moment. His countenance was striking, he was truly handsome but inside of him was a soul of ice. He smiled at her, and she felt her skin crawl. What had she done to deserve such a punishment?

"We welcome you daughter of Skūlløs, and embrace you as a new daughter of Hæla with our new alliance." The giant opened his arms wide and embraced her shoulders in a gesture of welcome. Cheers and _ skøll _ rang behind her as both sides drank and pounded the tables in celebration.

"May the gods bless this union!" Called Tåløs, again another round of cries, she looked to the giant prince, who apparently only worshipped one God. He shifted awkwardly at the statement, but had not corrected Tåløs like the golden eyed man had corrected her before. "Come! Let the sacrifice to Freyja begin!"

The warriors in the hall began to file out, to surround the bonfire that would be lit in her honour. Tåløs stepped down from the pedestal to offer her his arm. As she had no living family, it was his duty to light the flames. 

Outside the night air was frigid, the moon hung high and bright in the night sky - they were blessed with no wind nor snow. Everyone gathered around the giant pyre that stood taller than even the prince. Only Vers and Tåløs remained on the annex of the building, Måria and Mårvēll stood at the base of the stairs, both dressed in ceremonial robes, waiting to assist with the ritual.

Tåløs began the prayer, calling upon the heavens to listen to his call and look upon the beacon that was lit in their honour. The sound of rhythmic stomping and the beating of drums intertwined with the rattling of chimes and slowly filled the air, setting an ominous atmosphere for what was to come. Throat singers began their songs, calling to the wind to carry their Earl’s words.

Tåløs proceeding down towards the pyre, he called on the lesser gods to listen to his people’s prayers as he was handed a torch. As he slowly circled the pyre he called to the Vanir, so they may carry word to their sister Freyja of the tribute which awaited her. 

He lowered the torch catching the dried grass and kindling. Sparks began to fill the air as small wisps of smoke rose towards the heavens. As the pyre roared to life, he finally called to the Aesir, to the allfather and his children, to herald Freyja to them so she may receive Vers’ sacrifice and bless her upcoming union which would bind these tribes together.

With the pyre burning fiercely, Vers could feel its heat from where she stood. Slaves moved forward and placed the blooding stone and bowls down in front of the flames. F’ūry led a large dark goat toward the stone, and Mårvēll proceeded to paint ruins on its side, with a mixture of blood and herbs. Vers took that moment to glance over and observe the Rus. The Prince and the golden eyed man stood together at the front of the crowd, surrounded by a group of their kin. The glow lit up their faces, the giant’s eyes somehow still remained dark, as if the very light from the fire could not escape the darkness inside of him. 

The golden eyes of the man next to him burned all the brighter as he looked on mesmerized by what he was witnessing. How opposite the two were. The Rus and the Vikings had once shared a heritage, these rituals should call to them, should sing to their blood as they did to her. Perhaps this is why they both looked on in such fascination. She wondered if their one god demanded such sacrifices?

The beating of the drums stopped, yet their rhythm still echoed in the silence. She walked to the beast she was to sacrifice in the name of Freyja, Måria by her side holding the ceremonial knife. Vers knew the words she needed to speak, but they caught in her throat. 

She silently prayed that perhaps Loki or even her grandfather would pity her and change the manner of the cold hearted ice giant she was to marry, or even better, have him met with mischief and death before she was ever bound to him. She doubted they would hear her, it was not they who were summoned here tonight.

She looked once more towards the man she would be bound to, but once again he was obscured and she met warm golden eyes instead. They stare at her with an intensity that made her breath catch. The fire she saw in them gave her the courage to begin.

“Freyja, goddess of Love, beautiful Freyja, we summon you. We offer you this sacrifice. Freyja, daughter of Njord, most beloved of the goddesses, who is blessed with the love of all warriors, take the blood of this sacrifice and bless this union with prosperity and fertility. May the bounty of this union be everlasting and prosperous for all. Now is the time.” She shouted to the flames and to the sky. _ Now is the time _ echoed around her.

She turned to Måria and took the knife in hand, she bent over the animal and slit its throat, blood gushing onto the stone and running into the bowls. Cheers rang out, the singing and drumming commenced once more. Mårvēll presented her with a bowl, the woman dipped her fingers in and drew runes onto Vers' skin; _ health _ on her left cheek, _ prosperity _ on her right, _ strength _ on her right breast and finally _ fertility _on the front of her dress. 

She stared into the fire as the others moved away from her, passing the bowl between Mårvēll and the Rus, to mark the Prince with similar runes. She hoped some of the warmth from the flames would seep deep into her body and chase away the feeling of ice which was crawling through her veins. 

When Mårvēll returned, Vers held out her hands and the remaining blood was poured onto them. This was to bind her to these blessings, so she could carry them with her, for she would not be married here, but in Hæla in the Rus way - one more tradition she lost, one more aspect of her culture taken from her. 

As she was left alone she glanced across once more in search of fierce golden eyes, she found them as they sparkled in the firelight. They were lit from within with a hunger which she had only seen on the battlefield, in a small act of defiance to her fate she used the drying blood on her fingers to mark _ love _across her heart.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vers starts her journey into the unknown, but ends her day with a fluffy surprise

Vers’ eyes had not left the horizon since they had left the shore. Whilst the scenery changed her eyes remained fixed on the direction she had come from, on her home. She had sat and watched the people on the shoreline shrink and disappear, and as the opening of the fjord faded from view. The wind whipped her hair into her eyes and the salt made them sting but she would not look away.

Goodbye had been hard, normally she was not one for tears, but she had wanted to cry that morning. With her meagre belongings loaded she said goodbye on the docks, F'ūry had joked how he would now finally be able to hire a capable apprentice who would be less trouble. She knew he would miss her, as much as she would him. Søren and Tåløs bid her farewell with hugs and gifts. Despite what was happening, they had been kind to her after the loss of her family. Last was Måria and Mønicå, the little girl had clung to her and begged her not to go, it was heart-breaking to say goodbye. Måria and she held on to each other for as long as she could, before Tåløs had cleared his throat to officially bid them a safe journey.

The saddest moment was when she went to look for Goose early that morning. She looked everywhere for the little orange demon, calling for her, hoping she would appear. She checked the stables and the baker’s, none had seen her. She had to leave and couldn't lose time to search properly. Goose must have known; animals had such senses for these things, and decided that no goodbye was better, that she would go back to her wild ways before Vers had taken to care for her.

They had been on the water for the better part of a day, the sun was returning to her home in the ocean. Light was scarce during winter, it was why sea journeys often waited until summer. This journey had been an exception. She knew they would need to make land soon to camp, and as soon as they did, she would lose her bearings.

She felt someone come to stand behind her, the warmth from their body was lost to the wind. No doubt they were sick of her moping and would make her row alongside the others. She didn't mind such a task, yet she wasn't ready to look away. 

The warm familiar voice from the night before spoke to her reassuringly, "I know it is hard to say goodbye to your home, but this won’t be the last you see of them. The agreement struck was for an annual supply trade, we will return next autumn with goods."

"But will  _ I _ return?" She asked forlorn. 

He paused as if in consideration of her and her question, "I'll make sure of it!" he finally answered. The conviction in his voice made her believe him, although she couldn't see how he could make it happen. It was kind of him to try and cheer her, she turned to look at him, relinquishing her last view of home, the determination of his words was reflected in his golden eyes. 

Who was this man to be so sure? For the first time she looked around the boat; apart from the oarsmen, there were four guards, three high ranking boat hands, her and him. The Prince must be on another boat, which meant he must be a Commander, for there was no one else onboard to fill that role. He had been next to the Prince at the ceremony, so he may even be a General? Perhaps as a General he felt he had the power to make her such a promise, however she doubted her future husband would grant its fulfilment. 

"We should be making landfall soon for the night, what can I do to be useful?" She asked him, returning to look upon him. A soft smile twitched at the corner of his mouth, as if he found her offer endearing. "I'm not a Princess yet, I  _ can _ row you know?!" That caused him to unsuccessfully smother a laugh and hide the grin of amusement which attempted to take over.

"No doubt you can, another feat to add to your ever increasing list of capabilities. My men are well versed in setting up camp, but we could always use extra hands for disembarking." he advised her. Good, at least she could keep occupied.

A horn sounded across the water, and the man turned to the front of the boat. One of the hands near the front called back "we've reached the serpent's mouth" and waited for instructions from his commander. The Commander leaned over her slightly to get a better view of the upcoming coastline, he smelled of smoke and herbs, possibly still from the night before, yet he smelt clean too, and if he'd bathed. The closeness of him made her stomach flutter a little. She was around men all the time, but their nearness never had this affect on her.

"Take us in, if the tide is high we will make it as far as Gaelen's bridge before night, if not we should make camp after the second bend of the river." The hand sounded his own horn and a drum started to beat. The message being relayed to the other ships. He must be a General to be making such orders on behalf of the other ships. She couldn't just keep guessing, and hoping she had it right. She reached up and placed a hand on his sleeve, in doing so she gained his attention.

"I don’t know what to call you. Are you a General or a Commander? I never got the chance to ask your name last night."

"Hmm... I recall you having a few chances, but failed to take them." He teased and took a seat beside her, they were far enough away from the nearest rowing bench to not be disturbed, but she did notice the withering look he gave one of the guards who watched them. The guard quickly turned his back. The man turned to face her once more, wearing the warm affectionate smile he seemed to only have for her banter. "I am Yon-Rœgg, eldest son of House Rœgg, warrior of Hæla. I have no godly relations, unlike you apparently, and I am indeed a General… of sorts." She looked at him, trying to puzzle out his last statement, he patted her knee comfortingly, "All will make sense when we reach Hæla, I fear that I would bore you with the politics of it all if I explained now and you may throw yourself overboard." 

"If Hæla is to be my home, I will have to learn about it sometime. It's not like I have anything else to do on the journey."

"But I do…don't worry, we'll find something to occupy your time." He stood and walked to the front of the boat. Vers returned her gaze to the horizon, one last look before they left the sea for good.

* * *

She had done her best to help with unloading the ships without getting under foot. A task she found more difficult than she realised as most of the crew spoke in a tongue foreign to her ears. She had to rely on angry gestures and pointing fingers to understand. 

She noticed that only half the ships had berthed, the remainder seemed to be continuing onwards. No one seemed to find this peculiar except her, she had even noticed Yon-Rœgg coordinating a swap of men between a berthed ship and one which looked like it was to re-launch and continue. Yon stood with a tall grey haired man, he was many winters older than Yon but still looked as verile as any of the younger men. The two men embraced as old friends before the elder boarded the ship to continue his journey. She noticed Yon looked burdened, as if there was more to this situation than appeared.

Before she realised her feet had moved, she had crossed the encampment and was a few feet from him. He talked to another man in the same tongue she did not know, worry etched on both their faces, he hid it well when he noticed her approach.

He smiled yet it did not reach his eyes, he gestured with his head for her to join them. "Lady Vers, this is Commander Kœrath, and his second Ætlass." Both men bowed to her, she found the gesture unsettling. She was no Earl, she should not be treated as such. "Ætlass, please escort the future princess to her tent, and see she is accommodated. She was assigned four servant girls who speak her tongue, please ensure they have not become preoccupied elsewhere.” he ordered the younger man before turning back to her. “My Lady, should you have any concerns or questions please direct them to Ætlass. I trust him with my life and I can assure you that you can do the same. Excuse me." Yon bowed before he walked away into a larger tent with Kœrath.

Vers focused her attention back to the young man in front of her. They seemed around the same age, he had a friendly face too. He beckoned her to follow him, they walked to a round tent set further back from the main dwellings. She had noticed it had been one of the first structures erected, besides the larger tent Yon had escaped to. He lifted the flap and she walked inside, she was met with the servant girls who scurried into position in the centre of the tent. None would meet her gaze and each bobed in submission. The makeshift wooden floor was covered in rugs and furs to keep the cold and damp from seeping in, a firepit was coming to life in the corner attempting to fight against the chill of the air. Vers noticed there were more boxes than her single trunk inside, she was curious as to what they may contain, had they assigned her to share a storage tent? 

Ætlass cleared his throat, "This is the Lady Vers, she is to be our future princess, you are to take the greatest care of her as per your master's orders. Do you understand?" 

A harmonised "Yes" came from the women. One stepped forward and finally looked at Vers smiling. "We pour bath, yes?" 

Vers had understood her, but could tell that this girl did not know a lot of her language. She also knew instinctively that she was the one from the group who spoke the most, why else would she step forward to speak? "Yes" replied Vers and the girl retreated, ushering the others into action in their own language. It sounded different to what she had heard outside, but perhaps it was merely her lack of understanding which had her at odds. 

Ætlass took that as his cue to go, leaving her with the women.

* * *

Later that evening, Vers found herself sulking next to the firepit. The servants had been dismissed to grab food, or so she hoped. She had suffered through a painfully lonely bath. Despite the four women hovering around her, they continued to natter to each other in their own language. When she interrupted to ask questions, she was met with broken answers or blank stares. Dressing had been an ordeal, as they refused to let her dress herself in her own clothes. Instead they stitched her into a long gray dress made of thick wool. It was soft to the touch, not scratchy like her other clothes. Its edges were finely embroidered. She barely recognised herself in the looking surface, as she glanced over when they were done. Her misery from earlier only compounding now she sat staring at the flames of the hearth with the tea she made for herself.

She was overcome with the sudden desire to walk, so she picked herself up and stuck her head outside. Two guards were waiting at her entrance, both turned to look at her, she smiled at them and then retreated back. No exit out the front. She went to the chest she knew was hers and opened it to collect her dagger. She made her way to the back of the tent, and cut the rope which tied the fabric to the beams. She pulled the rope loose and opened a flap. She was facing the tree line and could see no one. Light was fading as dusk approached. She quickly grabbed her coat and forged ahead into the woods.

She walked until she could no longer hear the sounds of the camp or smell the smoke. She took the time to breathe and commune with the nature around her. She sought out the spirits of the gods as her mother had taught her as a child, so they could guide her steps in this unknown land. Before long she came to a small clearing, where she found and watched the figure of a man move through sword forms. The forms were foreign to her but she knew what she saw; lunge, parry, twist, block. As the man spun she saw his face, it was the General practicing in a field alone, with the consternation of a man fighting invisible demons.

He was skilled and strong, she could see it in the lines of his arms and how the muscles moved under his shirt. She watched him move through his forms mesmerised by the sight of him.

"Another reconnaissance mission?" He shouted across the field, he was not facing her so she wasn't sure how he'd seen her.

She walked forward, the hem of her dress trailing in the slush from the snow. "No, merely a walk." She answered as she drew closer.

He lowered his sword and turned to her, his chest heaving from the exercise, he asked breathlessly "where are your guards?"

She shrugged, "guarding the tent - I snuck out" she whispered conspiritorolly.

He chuckled to himself, "I see that. Should we add that to your list?"

"What? Prison escapee?" she laughed at him.

"It wasn't a prison" he sighed

"Really? Then why the guards?" She enquired. She understood, she was the prince's prize and she shouldn't be lost or spoiled, but she wanted to make him squirm.

"It's for your protection" he patiently tried to explain to her.

"Against whom? You? Your men?" she asked. He shifted uncomfortably at the accusation, which worried her. She thought she heard him mumble "not  _ my  _ men _ " _ but was uncertain. "I'm a shield maiden, remember? I know how to protect myself." She hoped her bravado in the least would bolster his falling spirits.

His smile returned "Yes, the mighty Vers. How could I forget?" He twirled his sword in his hand slowly, contemplating something. He then threw it at her, hilt first and with a spin to make her fumble. She caught it easily. She used to do the same to Måria during training. He stalked to a small pile next to the nearest tree and retrieved another sword. She swung her sword lightly to judge the balance and weight of it. It was well forged and tempered for a man of his stature, it was built to be swung with power through the shoulders. Her own was lighter, but she could adjust. 

"If you want to learn about Hæla and our ways let's start here - Basic stance!"

Vers casually settled into a basic stance, yet watched him sceptically. "I think a quick history lesson or even a language lesson would suffice." 

He'd circled her and used the flat of his sword to swat her backside for her cheeky remark. With a small yelp, she jumped forward and turned to glower at him. 

"This way you get both. Basic. Stance." With a huff she set her shoulders and took up the stance in earnest. The give of her skirts hindered her, clearly Rus women did not fight. Yon had noticed this and stepped up to attempt to adjust her. "We may have had a shared heritage generations ago, but we are different now, we conquered a land of many cultures, many beliefs and many languages. To do so, we had to adapt from the way of old, to a new way; to learn from those we conquered so we could fight and conquer them again."

He stepped away and looked at his handy work, he didn't seem impressed and Vers bristled under his scrutiny. "Pity!" Was all he said. She was about to elbow him in the stomach as he approached her from behind, when he snaked an arm around her middle, and held her to him. He then pointed the tip of sword between her legs and ran the tip of it under the outline of her leg, ripping the fabric down to the ground. All at once she was overwhelmed by his embrace, his breath in her hair and the ripping of her dress. When he let her go, she faltered a little.

If he noticed he made no remark, "When we are taught to fight, we are trained in the cossack way, it is called  _ ‘hapok’ _ . We swing and twist in circles from the waist, where you would swing from the shoulders. This allows us to use any weapon at our disposal, where you would need to adjust your technique based on the weapon."

He demonstrated with a strike from his middle. She observed his movements as one of his earlier forms. She nodded in understanding, the motion would work well for sword, axe, or pike. 

He reset his stance and beckoned her to attack with his fingers. She waited a beat before moving, like she had suspected, he swung out blocking her blow and parried behind himself to attack. She countered and the two continued to trade blows. She was a quick study, although she had yet to deviate from her own forms, she was quickly picking up his. 

He broke away and stalked her, "Good, sloppy, but promising." She wanted to wipe the smirk off his face, so she swung high. He blocked but she countered and managed to slice through his shirt. A near miss, no damage done, unfortunately. He doubled down, swinging and throwing new forms at her. She held her own against his onslaught, although it started to become difficult. She was getting frustrated. She was a mighty shield warrior, she wouldn't let some handsome goldeneye Rus General best her, in some attempt to teach her a lesson. 

“Each form we use has been selected because it's the best of our Empire. We‘ve integrated many cultures under our banner, and each addition makes us stronger. We have three grades of warriors, each represents a pillar of our society; each taught a specific style for a specific purpose. The ‘Accusers’ are our strongest and fiercest warriors, they represent our strength. The ‘Star-Kree’ are our elite, highly skilled warriors in multiple styles, they are our spies, they represent our integrity and wisdom. Last are our foot soldiers and sailors, the družyna, they are the blood of our empire, the soul of its people from all corners and clans.”

“So which do you control?”

“Both the družyna and the Star-Kree, so I know a good fighter when I see one. Sadly, I’m disappointed, I expected more from the  _ Mighty Vers _ .” he goaded her.

She knew he was doing so to get a rise from her, but she didn’t care. She trained hard and was an excellent warrior, she wouldn’t let him slight her. She ran at him, kicking snow up to distract him, her shoulder impacted with his side, he stumbled but recovered quickly. He caught her around the middle, dragging her to him once again.

"You're letting your anger get to you, you're not a berserker, you need to remain in control. Anger is a weakness the enemy can use." he warned her, his breath warm against the shell of her ear, causing her to shiver in response.

This time she knew he noticed the effect he had on her, he flexed his fingers into the material of her dress. She pushed off from him and swung, she would not be distracted. His elbow came up and clip her in the nose, she fell backwards sprawled in the muck and snow. "See?" She heard him drawl above her. 

She hauled herself up again, not bothering to brush herself off "I slipped. It's Icy." She dismissed the situation on purpose.

"You slipped because I elbowed you in the face." He countered, not believing what he was hearing.

"I was already slipping, that's how your elbow managed to catch me." she would not admit defeat so easily.

He just shook his head at her, then he lunged, spun them and trapped her against a tree. He was fast, and she never saw it coming. He pushed his weight into her, his thigh found his tear in her dress and she felt the fabric of his pants against her skin.

They held each other's gaze, both breathing hard. He slowly released her hands from above her head, taking her sword with him. 

"Come, it's getting dark." The light was almost gone and the chill had begun to settle in the air. He stepped away and went to collect his things. 

She took that chance to calm her breathing. She knew nothing of how these Rus treated women, she knew not what her future husband would do to her if she were caught fraternising with one of his Generals. He returned to her, and placed her coat on her shoulders, she didn’t even remember discarding it.

He ushered her back in the direction of the camp, and walked beside her. “So why did you wander so far from camp?” he enquired a little into their journey.

“Why are you practicing so far away from your men?” she countered. He had been right earlier, she had been so involved in her own predicament she had failed to ask the relevant questions of him. She would try not to repeat that mistake. 

Once again a smile graced his features. “I believe I asked first.”

“Well then, I’ll answer if you answer…” she looked to him and he nodded in agreement. “The servants you provided don’t speak my language, or at least not enough to hold a conversation or even understand my basic questions. I was in a room full of people who were talking over my head and I had no idea of what they were saying. So before it happened again I left to go for a walk – I’d rather be alone by myself than alone in a room full of people ignoring me.” she explained. He stopped her with a hand on her arm and looked to her, she turned to face him.

“I am sorry for that, I had been assured they spoke Scandi, I talked to them myself.” He was genuinely apologetic for her plight.

“Did you ask them anything that wasn’t a yes or no answered question?” she asked, suspecting what had happened in the selection of these women.

He contemplated for a moment “I can’t remember”

She shrugged and continued onward “It doesn’t matter, it’s done now.” He followed her “your turn” She called back to him, slowing for him to catch up.

He sighed, rather dramatically, but he did not strike her as a man of melodrama, so it must be concerning. “I also needed to be alone, to have space to think.”

“About what?” She waited for a reply, but there was none. Out of the corner of her eye he looked like he was considering his answer, or if to answer. “Is it to do with half the ships continuing onward?” he stiffened at her question, and swallowed visibly. It seems she had the heart of it. “Or perhaps why Prince Ronan went with them whilst you and I remain behind?” she continued to press. Hoping to get answers from him one or another.

“…Your shrewder than I thought.” he admitted to her in a low voice.

“You can add it to the list of my accomplishments,” she teased. “Well...?”

“Yes and no…no king sits on a throne without threat. One must always be cautious, but caution should not always lead to suspicion.” he advised her “Once a very wise friend told me that suspicion is a stain, that once there is suspicion about a person’s motives, everything becomes tainted. Ronan has good reason to continue his journey, something urgent has come up, however the insistence of some of those under him seem out of place. I needed time with my thoughts to gain clarity on the situation before I taint the motives of others.”

She didn't press for more, she understood, a man of his position would need to protect both his realm and his sovereign. Vigilance should not become paranoia. They walked in silence and eventually made their way back to the campsite, the others were huddled around fires, keeping warm and eating their dinner. Vers stomach growled as the smell of stew wafted to her nose. She felt a Yon's hand on the small of her back as he guided her to the large tent which must have been his. Inside was warm and cosy, similarly styled to hers but with a table and maps as the focal point. He placed his weapons away after signalling her to sit by the fire

He bought the tray of food over to her, he intended on sharing his meal. She was touched by his kindness. She was sure he was merely being the dutiful General to his princess. Yet it was still nice. He poured them two cups of meade and handed her hers, before disappearing again towards the back of the tent. She watched him as he moved around his space. She wondered who or what waited for him in Hæla, did he have a wife or family to return to? She knew her fate and it was not with this kind man, instead it was with a cold hearted giant who would abandon his newly acquired bride to forge ahead with his own endeavours.

She could see what her life would be like, forgotten and discarded until his need to have his bed warmed forced him to come to her, or her to be dragged to him. She would be a trophy, paraded when needed, birthing heirs when not. She considered her options of a lover and wondered what would the consequences of such a trespass would bring upon her. No doubt her lover, if caught, would meet with death, such warriors would not live with such a slight against their ego. She shook the thought from her head, it was folly to light her funeral pyre before it had been built.

He returned to her holding a round wicker basket, the basket had a lid lightly placed on top. "I found something that I believe belongs to you." Yon had an excited gleam in his eye, the knowing look on his face peaked her curiosity, his excitement was contagious. She did suspect that perhaps he had a viper in the basket, but she was willing to play along with whatever this was. She took the basket and placed it in her lap, the basket was heavier than she expected and a little warm as it rested on her thighs. She looked at him with suspicion, he merely kept watching her with contained excitement.

She slowly lifted the lid and looked inside. She was met with a mound of white and orange fluff, a tiny foot twitched as the cool air came in contact with it, two sleepy eyes slowly opened to look at whomever dared disturb it. Around its neck was a small string with a runestone attached to it. 

" _ Goose!" _ Vers dived her hand into the basket and stroked the cat's tummy. She was curled belly up enjoying her warm basket asleep and oblivious to the world. She stretched and settled back into the warm blanket that lined the bottom.

Vers looked up at Yon in pure awe and happiness, he smiled openly back at her. 

"That little demon woke me up last night when she climbed through my window and landed on my face. Like her mistress she's very bold in her assertions and proceeded to curl up and sleep on my chest without a care in the world. I woke to find her gone, and then found her in there a few hours later when I was packing. No wonder she was nearly eaten by a Giant, she has no concerns for befriending strange men." He had remembered her story, and her cat's name. She had thought Goose had left her, instead she had stowed away with the one man who knew to whom to return her to. 

Her relief and excitement distracted her sensibilities, she placed Goose in her basket down and jumped up to hug the General. She wrapped her arms around his chest and pressed her cheek into his shoulder. She felt him hesitate as he wrapped his arms around her and placed his hands on her back. 

He moved his hands along her back to her arms, leaving a slight tingle in his wake, he squeezed her arms and gently pulled her away from him. She came back to her senses, and blushed at her foolish behaviour. She stepped away out of his reach, but didn't dare look at him. She missed the soft and curious look in his gaze. He gathered himself and sat opposite her, starting on the food in front of them.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so very jetlagged - if this makes no sense, i appologise!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroine and the General grow closer. She makes a decision which doesn't go as planned.

They were on the rivers for another eight days, these men were experts of these lands, twice they had come to inlets where they could not pass, and so they took the next river around. Vers tried to keep her bearings, to help her return home if she needed to, but the rivers in these lands were confusing and forked too often. 

They did not always stop and camp, it seemed there was an urgency for them to return home. Yon had continued her "lessons" explaining a little more each time about their armies, their politics, their language and culture. When they had the chance to spar, she wore her leathers and would not let herself get distracted by him, which was easier said than done. He had explained more of the StarKree, he felt her skills could be honed into a more deadlier blade if she studied under the tutelage of their leader, who was a formidable warrior, and a trusted advisor to Yon. Their best became the palace guards, their honour gained in the defence of their Emperor and the temple of their God. 

She also had the chance to talk with Ætlass, she had taken the opportunity to learn more about Ronan in Yon's absence. According to his peers, he was a fine warrior but cruel. He was a Zealot, he believed in the purity of their God and felt that all whom diverged from its path should be cleansed. Apparently, this was at odds with the beliefs of Hæla, where every man in the empire was allowed to worship their own god in their own way. 

This caused her to worry. Vers admittedly wasn't the most devout. She never held a nightly vigil, nor made sacrifices regularly. She never felt she needed to, her mother was the daughter of a god. She heeded her bloodline and celebrated the sun, thanked Odin after battle and participated in Uppsala with her tribe. But that was it. Now that there was the risk she would never be allowed to commune with her gods. That the man she would be bound to, until he himself perished, would willingly end her life for worshipping her ‘false’ idols, left her heart heavy. She lamented over the loss of something she failed to appreciate when it was in abundance.

She needed to learn more about this Rus god, and its ways. Could she hide her worship amongst theirs? She approached Yon to be her trusted guide in this matter. He gladly explained about his God, and in turn, she shared stories too. She found he was genuinely interested in her past and her gods, he was curious of her rituals. In these small moments, they grew closer, fonder of each other. As each day passed and the closer they came to their destination, she dreaded it more, she wanted the journey to take longer, to savour these moments with him.

She was not married yet, and there had been no stipulation on her maidenhead, so she considered taking her right as a Viking and simply claim him; bedding him before Hæla, before she would be a princess. She knew he felt the same way, his gaze often lingered, as did his touches, his hands found places only those with a comfortable familiarity would touch, he stood closer to her when they walked.

She decided she would make her move on what was to be their last night before arriving in Hæla. They had made camp, the chance to rest and refresh before entering the gates of Hæla to be welcomed home. Yon was busy with the other commanders most of the evening, and she had once more been ushered away to be ignored by her servants.

She waited until well after dark, when the camp had gone quiet. She no longer had guards posted outside but her tent had been moved next to his; no doubt as a result of her first evening with them.

She wrapped herself in a pelt from her bed, and slinked from her tent. She waited to ensure she could not be seen before she crossed the few steps between their domains. She lifted open the flap at the entrance and snuck inside. It was dark, the fire in his hearth had burnt low, the air was warm and wrapped itself around her.

She heard soft snores rise from within the darkness of the room. She froze for a moment, now was her last chance to turn back. She felt the chill from outside against her back, and the welcoming warmth beckoning her forward.

She ventured forth, allowing the sounds of his sleep to guide her to him in the low light. He slept on his back, his face turned away from her. He looked peaceful, and if possible, even more handsome when his expression was unguarded. His eyelashes fluttering against his skin as he dreamed. His mouth slightly ajar as he breathed deeply in his sleep.

She leaned forward, she meant to run her fingers through his hair and to softly wake him. Quicker than she thought possible, he whipped up, one hand stilling her outstretched arm, the other around her throat, gold eyes burning into her. His grip on her loosened but was not removed when he recognised her. "What are you doing here?" He croaked into the space between them, his voice still heavy with sleep. 

She didn't answer him with words, instead she reached up to the hand clasped around her throat, gently wrapping her fingers around his wrist. She drew his hand down her skin, slowly parting the fur she wrapped herself in, revealing the creamy white of her skin underneath. She stood there in the darkness naked under the pelt draped over her shoulders, only partly revealing a wide strip of skin from her sternum onwards. 

His fingers traced the smooth valley of her breasts down to her stomach, where he stopped, spreading his hand wide over the skin above her navel. He had followed his hand with his eyes, drinking her in, noting every curve cast in shadow. He sought her eyes once more, looking for the sincerity in them, checking that this was not a dream, that she was real.

"Why are you here?" He asked again.

"I want you" was all she whispered to him. That was all that mattered in that moment.

The hand on her stomach crept further beneath the fur, drawing her to him. His other hand reached up, cradling her head, before he quickly and carefully flipped her under him, her back on the pallet on which he slept. He braced himself on his elbows as he loomed over her. She could feel the hard lines of his body aligning with hers, she relaxed into his warmth and the weight of him on top of her. 

They stared into each other's eyes for a moment, before he leaned down and kissed her. It was gentle and sweet. She wanted to savour this. Before long her tongue darted out and tasted his lips, asking for entry, he obliged.

The fur fell away revealing more of her, she rolled her hips into his, causing him to grunt in appreciation of the friction. His other hand began to roam, sending sparks along her skin.

Her hands found purchase in his hair, her fingertips massaging his scalp, he growled into her mouth once more. He broke away and started to nip at her jaw. He kissed up towards the sensitive skin of her neck behind her ear, all the while his free hand mapped the contours of her ribs, her hip and the smooth surface of her stomach.

She tried to breathe through the sensations; he was overwhelming and it was bliss. His heavy breathing in her ear fell into sync with hers, the rise and fall of their chests met. One of her hands moved down the muscles of his back, she felt them rippling as he moved with her.

She felt his voice rumble through her own chest before her ears caught his words. "Is this what you want?" His voice low and seductive in her ear.

"Yes" she breathed, as she dug her fingers into the muscles of his back, she felt him smile against her skin. His hand moved over the globe of her behind, and squeezed.

"I. didn't. hear. you." He punctuated each word with a kiss down her neck to her collar bone. When she didn't answer, he nipped at her skin, biting her just enough to sting but not mark.

"Yes, General" She voiced, she thought the use of his title would please him, that it was what he wanted to hear. Instead he froze in his ministrations, he hovered above her navel for a few beats before he raised himself up to look at her. 

She looked at him, curious at the change in him. His eyes held a mixture of hurt and guilt. As he contemplated her, she could see unasked questions behind his eyes. He seemed almost at odds to voice them. 

The spell between them was broken, she realised he had remembered her fate, remembered the sovereign he was loyal to, whom he was betraying with every kiss and caress. She understood the mistake she had made, she should never have come, she should never have been selfish enough to put him in this position.

Just as he seemed to speak himself, she sat up and pushed him from her, "I'm sorry! I shouldn't have done this to you." She stood from the bed but he caught her wrist pulling her to him once more. She spun to look at him. He placed her hand on his chest, covering it with his own. 

"You have nothing to be sorry for, it is I who owes you the apology. I have not been..." She didn't want to hear words of loyalty to Ronan or words of love for a wife in Hæla, of how she had been mistaken and had the wrong impression. She couldn't bear that shame, or the insult to the moments which she knew they had shared. She placed three fingers to his lips; silence, fortitude, resilience. 

She leaned in and kissed him one last time. She whispered against where their lips met "I thought this could be our little secret. That I could have one last thing for myself before everything was taken from me. I was wrong, I'm sorry." 

  
She turned and fled, avoiding his grasp. She purposely knocked over a small stool in her wake, she heard him trip and stumble as he reached for her. She heard him hiss, and then called her name as the flap of his tent fell back into place. She escaped into the night with the echo of  _ 'Vers'  _ sounding through her mind.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroine reaches her destination and gets an unexpected surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to point out that my comments about traditional Russian dress in this fic do not reflect my personal opinion and I mean no offense by it.
> 
> Also please be reminded that this fic is both historically and now geographically inaccurate, but I am trying my best.
> 
> Inspiration for the Hall and Yon's outfit [here](https://www.history.com/.image/ar_16:9%2Cc_fill%2Ccs_srgb%2Cfl_progressive%2Cg_faces:center%2Cq_auto:good%2Cw_768/MTY4Nzk1Nzg4MTQ1NjAwMDA1/oleg-vikings-v6_01_11022017_jh_03287.jpg)
> 
> Inspiration for Vers outfit [ here ](https://cdn1us.denofgeek.com/sites/denofgeekus/files/styles/main_wide/public/2020/01/vikings-season-6-episode-5-review-the-key.jpg?itok=iWQfJjul) mixed with a little bit of [ this ](https://i.kinja-img.com/gawker-media/image/upload/s--tVCv5dTj--/c_scale,f_auto,fl_progressive,q_80,w_800/zhzg61p2oj7gzhiimguu.png)

Cowardly is not a word that would ever be used by anyone to describe Yon-Rœgg, yet it acutely described his actions last night. Cowardly and foolish.

He had awoken to the vision of Vers at his bedside, adorned in nothing but the fur skin from her bedding. A vision he had found more enticing than he had expected, one he had been fostering deep in the recesses of his mind since the night he had spotted her peeking through a panel in the Skūlløsian hall. 

He had been irrefutably drawn to her the moment he had seen her, and beyond his wildest hopes, whatever attraction he had for her was returned as she had come to him - willingly. 

Then in the space of a heartbeat, what could have been a night of bliss, was lost because of a foolish misunderstanding, compounded by his fear she would think less of him once she learned the truth, and would halt the liaison - yet stop she did.

She would find out eventually; they would return to Hæla by the sun's set, and the truth would be known. He needed to tell her first, it was the only way to undo what little damage had been done before it escalated irreparably. The others had begun to pack up camp, a falcon had been sent with word of their coming arrival. 

He stared at the folded fur on the edge of his bedding, she had left it in her wake as she fled from him, under the wrong impression that she had trespassed. He ran his fingers through the hairs of the garment. It had long lost its warmth, the warmth of her body. The memory of the feeling of her flesh beneath his palms came back to him. He was lost between what was and the possibility of what could have been when others entered the tent to begin moving its contents to the ships.

Shaken from his reverie, he picked up the parcel and left to cross the way to her tent. Inside he found a similar scene of chaos, servants and soldiers moving about, packing and dismantling the makeshift housing. She was in the back, assisting with the packing of what had become her belongings. He indicated for the others to leave, they collected what they held and left him alone with Vers, who had yet to notice his presence. He cleared his throat, and she spun as soon as she heard him. 

He had noticed after their first few encounters that her eyelashes would flutter when she was nervous or embarrassed. She normally held such an intensely focused gaze, observing everything and everyone, it was curious to see her flustered, her lashes were in fact her only tell, as she often recovered quickly with a witty barb falling from her lips. 

In this case, the fluttering of her golden lashes against her skin continued until she noticed the bundle in his hands. An attractive shade of pink rose high on her cheeks, she looked adorable in her flustered state. He felt a small pang of guilt for enjoying the moment.

After it was clear she would not approach him, he stepped forward, offering her the garment. "You left this behind last night."

Whilst he had decided that he should reveal to her the truth, he had not truly thought past returning the garment to her. He now realised he knew not what he should say nor where he should start. He had thought he wouldn’t need to, normally words came to him so easily, yet with her in this moment, he was at a loss.

"Thank you" was all he managed to get from her.

She stepped forward to relieve him of his burden. She would not meet his eyes, he desperately wanted to catch her, tilt her head so he could stare into the pools of brown that sparkled in the low light of a fire. He could feel she was embarrassed and unsure of herself; he knew this wasn’t like her either. He cursed himself for this uncertain territory he had placed them in. She turned from him and placed the item into the chest she had previously been attending. 

"You do not need to feel embarrassed or guilty for last night. You did nothing wrong." He offered in an attempt to ease her current state.

He saw her tense at his statement; she slowly righted herself, he watched as the notches of her spine fell into place and disappeared from where they peaked through the fabric of her gown. As she straightened, she held herself with a stiffness he thought was more familiar to her, however it was defensive - not the reaction he was hoping for. 

“Of course I didn’t! and I do not need your pity!” she turned on him “You made your opinions quite clear last night on the matter, you need not explain further. I wasn’t what you wanted; I was mistaken and thought there was more between us than me simply being your charge. It was foolish of me to think otherwise. Thank you for relieving me of the misconception.”

"No, I was the fool. Any man would be a fool for letting you slip through his fingers." he placated.

“It matters not, it’s done now.” She went to slip past him, he caught her by the elbow, then stepped into her path. She still refused to return his gaze directly, her stubbornness held fast.

“It does matter, very much so! I did not stop because I did not want you. You were not mistaken in thinking there was something more here. You’re like a fire, the closer I get, the more I find myself burning... I was raised to control my emotions, that they do no justice for a leader to be ruled by them." He sighed as he continued "If it was not for a lifetime of control, you would drive me to distraction, woman. You are not some mere charge; you are the mighty Vers, slayer of giants. Yet despite years of training and honing my skills in battle, you manage to disarm me at every turn.” He smiled as the corner of her mouth quirked upward, she liked the thought of disarming him, even if it was only figuratively. 

He sighed knowing that this was when he needed to tell her the truth “There are things you need to know, things I thought did not matter if you found out later, as they would not change your fate. This marriage will go ahead, no matter what… reservations either of us may have about it.” He swallowed hard “I could not dishonour you last night by bedding you without you knowing certain truths, you deserve that, and so much more than my dishonest heart can provide..."

"Don't... Don't break my heart by making me fall for you more than I already have." She whispered into the space between them. She looked at him then. Honesty and pain in her eyes. 

He surged forward and kissed her. Joy and hunger consumed him; she had begun to feel for him, as he had to his surprise for her. This was the beginning of something real, he could feel it singing in his blood. Yet the cold grip of fate still lingered, a reminder that this was not meant to be, that this was not the path destiny had planned for either of them. He did not want to think of what would happen if they angered the fates. 

Vers melted against him and he fisted his hands into her braids, trying to drive the foreboding feeling away.

From behind him he heard someone else enter the tent. He hoped they would leave. Then he heard Kørath speak "Sir!". She froze. Yon fought the urge to growl at the intruder.

"A message has arrived sir. It requires your immediate attention." 

Yon reluctantly pulled from her, untangling himself as best he could; wisps of her hair came loose as his hands retreated. He turned his head and nodded his affirmation of his attendance. Kørath left the tent, but he knew the man would be back immediately if he did not follow soon. 

He normally appreciated Kørath’s single mindedness on these matters, but Yon cursed him in this moment. He smoothed the loose hairs haloing her head, she clasped his hands to stop him, he would only make it worse with more fussing. He exhaled a long and impatient breath, he did not want to leave but he knew he must, they needed to embark soon. 

She stepped away from him, releasing him to leave, she nodded to him, she understood it was not what he wanted. “Go” she encouraged. He walked backward slowly, not ready to look away from the image of her standing there with flushed cheeks and dishevelled hair. She laughed softly at his foolishness and rolled her eyes at him. He turned and left the tent.

As predicted Kørath stood directly outside waiting for him, they walked in step towards his ship, where a falconer stood with her charge. The scroll around the bird’s leg had his personal Sigel on the outside, indicating that only he should open the message. He untied the twine securing the note to the bird. As he read through the message, he knew they had to make haste, he needed to be in the capital. 

He glanced around the camp, they were not ready to disembark yet, nor would they be for some time. The overwhelming urge to leave immediately warred with the knowledge that splitting the ships would be just as detrimental, he could not leave Vers behind unguarded, nor could he leave some of his men. Were he to arrive in such a way it would only serve to highlight his lack of confidence in his contemporaries and undermine his authority amongst his own ranks.

Fate had reared its ugly head, a reminder of how he was tempting ruination by pursuing Vers in this manner. He then realised that he didn't tell her what he wanted to, and now there was no time left; a crowded ship was no place for such a discussion.

It seems fate was forcing his hand; he would have to reap the consequences of his cowardice.

* * *

The first signs they were approaching Hæla was when Vers noticed the forests along the riverbanks gave way to farmland, fields iced over in frost, and small structures for livestock. The snow here was not as deep as in her homeland. These open spaces were backdropped by white rolling hills. The tall icy mountains of her homeland long gone. 

As their journey continued, the farms gave way to small villages and then more farmland. These villages grew in size, she could see the smoke rising from the homes she could not see from the river. Occasionally children would run towards the banks, waving and chasing the boats, laughing at their passing. She smiled to herself and waved back, she remembered when her and her brothers would do the very same when they were small, and joy they experienced when someone returned their waves with enthusiasm.

Soon the villages seemed never ending, the smaller distances between them indicating they were closer to their destination. She noticed more defensive structures too; watchtowers, keeps, even sections of walls. From the lay of the land she could tell they were approaching a catchment which would lead to the lake Hæla apparently sat on. 

When they finally approached the inlet, and the vast expanse of the lake was apparent, Vers was struck speechless in awe. She had never seen a lake so huge, it stretched out beyond the horizon to her left so far she almost thought she may have been on the sea once more. The same rolling hills which had lined the riverside of the lake, were dwarfed by the mountains which rose up on the shore opposite. Below their shadow sprawled a vast metropolis, a city larger than she had ever seen in her life. It curved around to her right, along the lake shore to the river inlet they had just come from. 

She crossed the boat to get a better look. Her astonishment must have been all over her face, for when she caught sight of Ætlass he watched her with a warm amused smile on his face.

A multitude of docks with ships of various sizes and purposes jutted out into the waters of the lake along the shoreline. It was clear that this city was a busy trading post. When the ships failed to manoeuvre towards the piers, Vers looked at Ætlass in confusion. As if he could hear her thoughts, he pointed with his chin to the bow of the boat and their destination.

Two tall stone walls protruded out into the lake, converging to meet at a giant, imposing sea gate. The structure encircled more of the city; what looked like several large domed buildings, nestled in the shadow of the giant mountains whose peaks were hidden beyond a layer of clouds. 

The gates were covered in banners and at each tower along the wall flew flags of the same emblem. Each was a deep green trimmed in a dark grey which was almost black in the gloom of the winter's day. In the centre of each banner and flag was a white star.

Their ship's horn sounded across the open water, and in return was answered by a deeper sound, one that vibrated through her chest. It sounded as if a great beast had let out a roar. Drums started beating guiding their arrival and welcoming them home. The men on the ship seemed spurred on by the sound, however it made Vers anxious, it sounded like the beat of that same beast's heart; a beast that would eat her alive. 

The closer they came the more deafening it became; she could feel it echoing behind her ribs. Cheers rose up from the walls as they grew closer, she realised that people lined the walls watching their return; waving and cheering, welcoming their sons and daughters home.

The giant doors at the centre of the gate slowly began to open with a loud creaking sound, she could hear the chinking of the iron chains and the straining of the doors against the drag of the water. They opened like a maw of that same giant imaginary creature. 

As she passed through the gate, she turned and looked back at the people behind her celebrating their return. On the gate it was all soldiers yet lining the wall and the shore were crowds of people, more than just the families of those who had ventured north.

Beyond the protection of the wall, she could see more clearly the buildings which stood here. These buildings were not simple huts, but lavish and large structures, carved from wood and stone, some were even topped with metal. These were not the homes of bakers or butchers, not even her King lived in such grandeur, these buildings must be the palace or their temple. 

Her kingdom seemed so small compared to everything that surrounded her. Another strange and distinctly different feature was many of the buildings were round. She had noticed the domes in the distance, like upturned bowls or helms, but she had not realised the buildings under them were also of the same shape. 

The notable exception was a unique looking building with a platform leading down to the water, its wooden walls and high-pitched roof drew the eye. The entire inlet looked as if it was centred around this very building. On the platform stood a dais, flanked either side by two large banners hanging from overhead and moving gently in the breeze. Beneath where the roof pitched over the dais, was an ornate wooden carving featuring the same star on the banners. The star of Hæla. Yon had told her about it, it symbolised their unity under their god. 

The men had stopped rowing once they had reached the gate and now the boats slowly drifted towards the bay’s centrepiece. Inside the wall, the water had frozen at the edges near the shore and piers, ice sheets floated on top of the water. The rolling tides from the heaving mass of water beyond the gates seemed to prevent the main lake from freezing, but they did not reach these secluded waters. 

The boats needed to be careful on their approach. As she drifted closer, she noticed people dressed in the most ridiculous outfits, covered in silks, furs and beads, appear on the platform from inside the building. Behind them a man on a chair was carried out and placed on the dais by four pole bearers.

Unlike the cheering crowd, these people regarded the returning ships with a cold detached gaze, she recognised the same look in the eyes of other Earls and her own King. These people were the leaders of the Rus and of Hæla, this was to be her family.

Vers had never ran from a fight, she was never scared, but right at that moment she had never felt the urge to turn and flee more in her life. She wanted to run to the back of the boat, clamber over the side and swim, swim as far as she could get. 

She held fast, she would not dishonour her name nor her people. But when she saw Ronan emerge from the shadows of the overhang and into the cold light of the winter's day, no force could prevent her from moving backwards. She felt her chest restrict, her heart stop and her breath escape her lungs. She wasn't sure how far she had moved before she felt the brace of a familiar hand on her back. 

"I thought a Viking knew better than to stumble blindly around a ship?" His voice was low and gentle, although it did little to soothe her. She looked at him and saw his amusement in the way his skin scrunched around his eyes, but there were no other signs from how he held himself. He mirrored those up on the platform; he stood next to her with a cold detached authority. It reminded her of how he was on the first few days of their journey, of how he was with the men he led, and how he had been when they boarded the ships to leave that morning. 

None of the glimpses of warmth he tried to hide yet seeped through in her presence regardless. She guessed he had to be this way, to make it easier for them both, he had said so himself; her marriage would go ahead despite their mutual desire otherwise. It was a stark reminder that this would be her life now, not with him but with the ice giant on the platform. There could be no more warm glances, or smiles for her. 

"It was a strategic repositioning until you got in the way. I didn't want to be underfoot as your men disembarked." She quipped back, it was all she could do.

His eyes crinkled a little more, she knew he saw through her. "You're the guest of honour, there's no shying away now, for either of us." His statement confused her, she doubted he shied away from anything. 

"Ours is a court of more formality than yours, you will need to be careful. I advocate holding that shrewd tongue of yours until you know whom you can trust and whom you can't. You're far too trusting and open, it will do you little good here. The proceedings will be formal, do not speak unless spoken to, they will do the courtesy of addressing you in Scandi, but only for today. Afterward it’s all done you will be whisked away to do  _ womanly _ things before the banquet tonight. We will not see each other until then, I can give you no more assistance here after." His warning was firm and his eyes conveyed the importance of her understanding, she took heed of his words.

He had explained in their travels many things, including what was to happen upon their arrival and how to address her superiors within the royal family. This was her final lesson. She nodded, she understood. 

He sighed and closed his eyes, his expression slipped and she saw for a moment something akin to guilt or disappointment. He schooled his features once more before he turned to face his Emperor, he held himself proudly, his chin up, and shoulders set strong. 

"This won't make much sense now, and if I get one final chance to explain I will, but in the meantime, please know that I'm sorry. I tried to talk to you about it, so it came from me directly, but you were very adamant about silencing me." 

Their ship slowly came to a halt in the water in front of the platform, there was a section in the wood, cut out to specifically hold the bow of their ship, they were then perfectly aligned with the dock on their right which wound up a level to where the Emperor sat with his entourage. She was looking directly up at a group of women who had positioned themselves at the front of the awning's railing. Flower petals began to rain down on them, scattered from bowls which some of the women had carried with them.

As Yon moved to disembark at the edge of the boat, she looked back across the man-made bay and saw the other ships had anchored at different points along the bank further away. It was just them who were caught in the throat of the beast.

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Yon had extended his hand to her to help to shore. She'd been around boats all her life, she'd never needed help, she could out sail many in her tribe and often challenged some of the fishermen in the summer. It grated on her, his assumption she would need help, but the look in his eyes when they met her own recalcitrant glare urged her to behave for her own good. 

She was confused and curious about his comment, and the truths he had claimed he wanted to tell her that morning. He'd had all day on the boat but had avoided her. Whatever it was, it was not for the ears of others. She was tempted to ignore his silent plea, but a feeling deep in her bones suggested it would be unwise. She took his hand and let him assist her out of the ship. He squeezed her hand as a silent _Thank_ _you_, before continuing up the stairs to what was now clearly a viewing balcony. She followed silently a few steps behind him, watching carefully for her cue.

As he crested the final step, an older woman glided over to Yon with open arms. She was dressed in deep greens and blues, with gold stitching and beads. They grasped each other's arms; he bowed his head in reverence as she kissed him on the temples. The gesture was oddly affectionate and inconsistent with the formal detachment she sensed amongst the group. Søren would often greet her in a similar fashion, however she exuded warmth and welcoming. 

Yon then proceeded to the foot of the dais and knelt in front of his leader, head bowed as he offered his greetings and respect. They conversed about the trip, she recognised a few words, things she had picked up in her short time learning his language; a few titles,  _ good, not, bad, boat, Skūlløs, Tāløs _ and a few other terms. 

Her interest piqued when she recognised her own name, she stood up straighter where she had stopped at the top of the stairs. She looked at the Emperor to gauge his reaction, she saw him staring at her, she was unsure what to do, should she look away and divert her eyes as Yon had done? 

It was too late, she had already made eye contact, and whilst she panicked, he had returned his attention to Yon. She looked at the collection of people around her, all eyes seemed to be on Yon as he spoke, except Ronan's, she met his eyes and once again felt his cold heartless gaze pierce right through her.

She forced herself to look away when Yon stood and moved backwards. All eyes were then on her.  _ Shit _ \- what had she missed?

"Come child." The Emperor held out a pale and wrinkled hand to her as he beckoned her forward. She advanced to where Yon had stood and bowed her head. His hand was still raised in the air limply, she wasn't sure if he wanted her to hold it or not. 

She wracked her brain for the information Yon had given her about this, through her mild panic she remembered and knelt in front of him whilst lightly kissing his extended hand. She looked up at the man who was to be her new King, he regarded her and no doubt her blatant lack of respect as she continued to keep eye contact with him. 

He was old, older than the woman who had greeted Yon, old enough to be her own Grandfather. His skin was pale yet held the colour and weathering of a man who had seen many summers firsthand. 

He had wrinkles everywhere, but few laugh lines; his demeanour was serious. He had a white beard which was kept short, and she saw small tufts of grey curl out from underneath his hat, he was covered in layers of furs and blankets to keep him warm. He looked unwell, not quite the weak sickly way old men often get, but she sensed that was only a matter of time or ill fortune.

In her homeland, men at this age were encouraged to perform ättestupa, and throw themselves off the nearest cliff to rid their families of the burden of their care. She wondered if this was also practiced here, but doubted that this man would participate, Leaders very rarely did, even in her own lands.

Behind her Yon introduced her "May I present to you Vers, daughter of Cøja, granddaughter of Baldr, and warrior of Skūlløs."

"Welcome to your new home, Vers of Skūlløs." The Emperor greeted her. His voice was stronger than she expected, somehow, she had envisioned a raspy croak would escape him.

" _ Thank you Emperor" _ she attempted in Rus. He smiled at her attempt. He indicated for her to stand and turn, which she did. She was faced with a spectacular sight; from the platform she could see the crowds gathered on the shore and wall. She could see the boats she had travelled days with moored to the docks, the men aboard all watching them intently, none had joined their families on shore yet. With the sea gates still opened she could look out onto the great lake and could see in all its glory the city as it spread far and wide along its shores. 

She felt like she could see his entire empire, all laid out at her feet. It was spectacular. She was pulled from her wonder by the voice of the Emperor, which rang out clear across the water in Rus. She knew he spoke of her, of Skūlløs, she turned her head slightly to look at Yon when she heard his name mentioned but he would not catch her eye, he looked to his Emperor, the ever-dutiful son of Hæla. She then thought she heard the word Queen; that’s when it hit. 

Up to that moment she had only seen herself as some reluctant bride who would occasionally need to attend to wifely duties. She assumed she'd be just some foreign princess, kept off in a corner of this strange new land to be ignored. The reality that she would one day be the Queen of all this was too much. 

She felt herself go weak and falter, then a deafening cheer rose up amongst the people and echoed through the space across the water. Her instincts and training kicked in, she righted herself, moved her feet into a defensive position as if she would need to fight off every man in the crowd. From the corner of her eye she saw Yon tense, he had noticed her change. She hoped he and the others would assume she was merely startled by the noise; it was unexpectedly loud for such an open space.

The young women at the front of the balcony, whom had thrown petals over them when they first docked, returned to the task. They started to litter the floor, leaving a trail behind them as they returned inside of the building. The pole bearers returned to their positions and raised the Emperor above their shoulders to carry him inside. Yon still did not face her, he stood with his hand on his sword watching the procession. He looked very regal in that moment, and she felt out of place, too lost to know what was to happen next. 

Once the throne had passed the threshold, the noble men who had been gathered on the right side of the dais, moved to follow. A few approached Yon, one clapped him on the back and started to heartedly converse with him. She watched them leave slowly, as the women on her side flurried around her to do the same. She felt warm fur-cloaked arms link with her own, she turned to find the woman from earlier regard her with a guarded look and cold false smile.

“Come child” her tone dripped with condescension. Vers was beginning to dislike being called  _ child _ , she was a grown woman and warrior too. As the woman began to guide her inside, Vers managed one last look to Yon through the crowd up ahead, he turned his head just enough for them to have one final look before parting ways for good.

* * *

Vers was taken by the women to do womanly things as Yon had put it. At first she had been a little insulted at his derisive description but after the experience she had to agree with the summary. 

She had been taken to private rooms, in what appeared to be a communal female area of what she had been told was the palace complex. There she had been introduced to some of the other residents. The woman who had guided her was the Emperor's daughter and Ronan's mother, the Grand Princess Yulia, she was then introduced to other daughters, granddaughters, in laws, wives and what she was certain was a concubine or two. She was then shown what she understood was to be her room until the wedding. Here a group of maids and slaves then stripped, bathed and dressed her for the evening's banquet where she would be formally introduced to the court and the start of the pre marriage rituals would begin.

Unlike during her travels, these maids had seemed intent on dressing her in complete Rus garb. She was dressed in several layers of silk and thick brocaded fabric. It was heavy, and she honestly doubted it was because it was meant to keep her warm. Her sleeves puffed out from her shoulders and were cynched at the cuff at her wrist with fur. 

She was then layered with beads, before a heavily embroidered over-robe was placed on top, almost hiding everything underneath. She was tied into soft satin slippers which curled up and backwards to a ridiculous point above her toes. She felt like she could hang a lantern from the ends to light her way.

They attacked her face with powder, and then twisted her hair into two long ropes, adorned with ribbons. They then proceeded to place the most ridiculous looking headpiece on top of her head. She felt like she was wearing a box with a cloth draped over it to dress it as a table. The material fell around the headpiece and across her shoulders, hiding her hair from sight.

She felt it was excessive and ridiculous. Yet it was what some of the other women wore, including the Grand Princess. If she had to dress like this for the rest of her days she might very well hurl herself into the icy water outside. 

The ensemble was various shades of gold, almost the colour of the sky at sunset, and was in all honesty, the finest thing she had ever worn. The fabrics were luscious, and the details so fine she was certain the person who had made it must have gone blind. She shuddered to think of what her wedding outfit would be.

She could hardly move in it, she felt so weighed down. As she had followed the others to the great hall, she had shuffled along more than walked.

When they had reached the hall, it was a giant round room; warmly lit by a multitude of lanterns hanging from the ceiling. Candles were positioned all around the room. It was surprisingly warm, yet she saw only a few small fires burning in low bowls.

There were no long tables nor chairs, but cushions scattered all around, small low tables were nestled in between at various points. This is where they would congregate and eat. None of the shared tables and loud dinners she was used to. The centrepiece of the room was a raised platform with stairs leading to the top on either side. It was covered in plush fabric and on top sat a monstrous gold throne. Here the Emperor lounged with a dog at his feet and a lower cushioned seat on his right.

The room itself was beautiful, every surface ornate and carved with intricate patterns. More and more she felt out of place and longed for the simplicity of home. It baffled her as to why these people had even bothered with helping Skūlløs. Why was some Viking bride needed when they could clearly have picked any rich Princess from a thousand other tribes? Was Ronan so horrible that they needed to search further afield for some simpleton to fool?

As she was guided to the centre of the room by the Grand Princess, the other women dispersed and joined what must have been their respective husbands. Before the Emperor stood both Ronan and Yon, both looking extremely different from when she had last seen them. Ronan was dressed in a long dark blue robe, whilst Yon was dressed in a shorter black and gold coat which flared out his knees over is black britches and boots. He looked more like a Prince than a military man.

Both men turned to look at her when the attention of the room shifted. Their reactions to her presence were like day and night. Where Yon appeared captivated by her appearance, Ronan coolly regarded her before returning his attention immediately to the Emperor. Vers felt the sharp sting of rejection, followed closely by a frustrating anger. She may not want to marry this beast, and he may be equally disinterested in the union, but the least he could do is show her the respect of pretending to be appreciative of her appearance.

She couldn't look at Yon, she wouldn't torture herself, so she followed her husband-to-be's direction and looked to the Emperor on his throne.

"Welcome Vers of Skūlløs to Hæla, the shining star in our Empire. We offer our thanks to Him in His Supreme Intelligence, who has guided you safely to our shores.” Vers bobbed in what was called a curtsey as she had been shown by the Grand Princess, the Princess then took her hand and paraded her in a slow circle around the room whilst the Emperor spoke words she did not understand

_ "My loyal subjects and council, in accordance with our new treaty with Skūlløs, they have provided us with one of their own to bind our kingdoms. I care not for the ways of the Norsemen, but they have fulfilled an essential purpose. By the word of the law, this union will legitimise my Grandson's claim to my throne. He is of age, and will be married by his 33rd winter, conditions you stipulated be met before he could be passed his father's title, which was his  _ ** _right_ ** _ by birth! His legacy will be intact, and his ascension thus ensured." _

As she was walked around the room, she bowed to each member of the council she met. This was her introduction to the court; this had been explained to her whilst she had been dressed.

On her return lap she noticed that whatever had been said had clearly irritated more the few of the men in the room, although they tried to hide it. Even Ronan looked tense, the lines of his shoulders were stiffer than before, yet he held himself firm.

"Is there any among you who object to this union or believe the conditions of ascension remain unmet? Speak now or forever be silent." 

Whilst some in the crowd shifted none of the council uttered any objections. Vers stamped down the urge to shout out her own objections, she thought of little Mønicå playing in the spring field by their house and reminded herself why she was doing this.

"Well then, congratulations my boy, your ascension to becoming my heir to the throne in the eyes of your peers is in hand. The wedding will be held in two days’ time. Lady Vers, I present you to your future husband, and heir apparent to Hæla and the RusKree Empire,  ** _Grand_ ** Prince Yon-Rœgg of the House Rœgg."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bait. and. switch! Not sorry!
> 
> Remember I live off comments.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wedding day is here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you have not watch "On Dracon"/"I am Dragon" i highly recommend it. Its a Russian fantasy love story with some amazing imagery and the inspiration for some of this chapter.
> 
> Scene [here](https://pandora-cleo.tumblr.com/post/190324374702/theabhorsen-%D0%BE%D0%BD-%D0%B4%D1%80%D0%B0%D0%BA%D0%BE%D0%BDon-drakon-2015) and [here](https://pandora-cleo.tumblr.com/post/190324375147/on-drakon-wedding-ceremony)

Vers stood dumbfounded, had she heard correctly? Surely her mind was playing tricks, or had he misspoken his Scandi? Had Loki followed the trail of misery and self-pity she had left like a stench in her wake and decided to play one last trick on her? 

She looked at Ronan who seemed nonplussed by the statement, then to Yon who had advanced to take her from her escort. He showed no outward signs of distress or guilt, however there was a sheepish glint to his eyes. What was said was true. Briefly relief flooded through her, she was no longer bound to a man who made her skin crawl. She felt a weight lift from her, one she had not realised had settled so heavily on her.

Then the realisation of what  _ had _ transpired settled on her. This is what he wanted to warn her about. Despite still being dazed, she had the right of mind to glare at him.

Yon led her to a cushion near where he had stood and helped her sit before joining her. The Emperor continued to address the room, but she paid no heed to him. 

She should be happy, yet all she could think of was that he had lied! He had lied to her, not once but for  _ ten _ days straight! He knew, this entire time he had known that she was to be  _ his _ bride and never told her otherwise. He has watched her lament over her fate of marrying Ronan and never said a thing. It could be no misunderstanding; she had asked him about Ronan when they had first met. Gods! She had almost given herself to him, the lying scum!

Indignant rage boiled inside her. She wanted to punch him in the face and break that handsome nose of his, but there was no way she could fight off a room full of assailants in the stupid outfit she was in. She desperately needed a drink. She wanted to drain the entire jug that sat on the table in front of them.

Yon keenly sensed her agitation, he shifted uncomfortably next to her, he continued to glance at her as she stared into nothing imagining the ways she would beat him bloody for this betrayal. She contemplated taking the nearest knife and jamming it into his arm. She'd been such a fool for trusting him.

Yon moved his hand to grasp hers, the gesture was meant to be comforting, she grabbed his wrist pinning it against the table and dug her nails into the muscles. He hissed and tried to pull away, but she wouldn't let him, he attempted to ball his hand into a fist, but she compressed the small tendons under her fingers preventing him from flexing his hand. Any further struggle on his behalf would cause a scene.

When the Emperor finished talking a servant came to pour them wine. Vers released Yon and grasped her chalice to down it in one gulp.

Yon reclaimed his wrist, rubbing it where the crescent marks of her nails indented the skin. "That was unnecessary." he warned in a low voice so the others nearby could not hear them.

"You lied to me." she hissed at him with the anger and venom she felt inside at that moment. She wouldn't look at him, one look into his golden eyes and she'd likely melt.

"It was not a lie, I simply failed to correct an assumption." He tried to correct her; in the hopes he could placate her; it failed.

"The omission of truth is the same as a lie." She chastised him as she went for another drink.

He sighed "I tried to tell you…"

"Well you didn't try hard enough!" She hissed at him, almost slamming her cup down, before scanning the room to see if she was making a scene. She wouldn't admit out loud that she knew it was partially true. She'd had this growing worry that he had wanted to tell her that he was destined to marry someone else, and her jealous heart would not stand to hear it. She wasn't past admitting it to herself, but she would never say it out loud.

" _ You _ stopped  _ me _ twice!"

"If I recall correctly, it was  _ you _ who kissed  _ me _ this morning. Not to mention the  _ ten other days _ we had together where you felt it necessary to impart all sorts of wisdom to me whilst avoiding the most important point!" 

They both paused in their argument as a server crouched in front of them, placing a plate of meats and breads for them to enjoy. 

They both spotted the deadly looking knife on the plate, Yon managed to grab it out from under her, although another heartbeat and he was certain he would have found it embedded in his arm instead. 

Her seething rage would not be soothed here, and this wasn't the place to have this discussion. Mostly because she wouldn't be able to punch his face. She angrily snatched some bread and shoved in her mouth.

She waited for him to do the same before she threw one more barb at him. "You were right." She conceded, mildly shocking him with her response from the way he looked at her. She turned to him and met his eyes "I am far too trusting. To think I almost fell for a lying untrustworthy scum-milker like  _ you _ !" She spat at him like a viper.

She didn't care if her words hurt, she hoped they would, she couldn't trust what he said or whatever lies his eyes told her. She shuffled away from him to the farthest edge of the cushion she sat on and turned to face the room, observing how the others acted. With her back angled towards him the message was clear, she was done talking.

* * *

After the meal was done and she had studiously ignored Yon for the favour of the neighbouring couple. She has been collected by the Grand Princess and returned to her quarters where she was undressed once again. This time she was left in her night shift for bed.

The princess dismissed the servants and proceeded to brush Vers' locks from the confines of the ribbons. In the quiet time the princess took the chance to explain some elements of the upcoming ceremonies leading to the wedding. Vers tried to listen but the day and its revelations had exhausted her.

"You seem distressed child." The princess asked after some silent brooding on Vers' behalf.

"You could say that. I'm just... confused, I had thought I was to marry Prince Ronan, not Prince Yon. It's just a surprise." She confessed

"Marry my son? What would give you that impression?" The princess laughed in confusion. The sound implied she thought the idea as preposterous. Vers bristled, did the princess not think she was good enough or merely a fool for not understanding the situation?

She now needed to explain but didn't want to confess the entirety of her ignorance, nor what had passed between her and Yon. Yon's words to not trust anyone rang in her head. 

"There was a celebration with my people for this union; a blessing. Ronan was given preferential treatment by my Earl. I just assumed from his participation that he was my intended. I never clarified with anyone." which was the heart of the matter. She never asked Tālos nor Mårvēll whom had participated in the ceremony whilst she had prayed.

"I see, an easy mistake to make." The woman seemed satisfied with the answer. But the knowledge that she was Ronan’s mother and not Yon's confused her more. Who was this woman to Yon or her if not a mother?

The silence grew as the Grand Princess continued to brush out Vers' hair.

Curiosity got the better of her and she could not hold her tongue. "Why are you doing all this? If you are Ronan's mother and I am to marry Yon, why trouble yourself?"

"It is the duty of the highest woman of the house, my mother and our queen passed many moons ago. As did my brother's wife shortly after his demise. As Yon has no sisters, I am the oldest and these duties fall to me. I do not mind, Yon was still young when his parents passed, he grew up with my daughter, so he is practically a son to me. Fear not, I will teach you the ways as if you were a natural born daughter of Hæla, as these duties will fall to you and your own children." She politely explained as if it were as simple as the weather.

"What if I have no daughters?" She dared not ask about no children, nor think too much on the subject at all.

"Do you assume you will be so fortunate to only sire boys? Did you have many brothers?" The Princess enquired, she almost sounded insulted.

"Two, I was the last." Vers' heart clenched at the memory of her lost family.

"My mother bore more daughters than sons, a growing trait in our family. Two out ten; Yon and Ronan are the only males of their generation. Once Elreg comes of age, he may also have sons but that is many years away yet."

"Elreg?" Asked Vers with curiosity, with at least eight other new relatives to remember she was going to struggle. She wasn't great at names, faces yes, names not so much. Mariå and her would make up funny names to remember most people by.

"My youngest sibling, Prince Elreg; he is ten winters old. Were it not for Yon, he would be heir apparent to my father. Can you imagine an empire in the hands of a child?" She laughed to herself at the absurdity of the idea.

"Would not Ronan be next in line? Or even you?" Vers asked, the rules here were clearly different than her homeland. Ascension to Earl and King was mostly through spilt blood, but all children could inherit. 

She laughed again, amused by the idea that she could be in charge. "No, only male heirs can ascend to the succession. Although I would have made a fine queen if I do say so myself." Vers caught her smiling in the mirror, before she shook her head. 

"No, here the claim of the sons of the eldest son outweigh that of the second son. The line of succession follows the men. Oleg the younger - Yon's father, then Yon and his sons, the Elreg, his sons, then Ronan and my grandsons. This is the way."

So, Ronan was the last in line, and if she estimated correctly the eldest too. That must be difficult, knowing a child outweighs your claim to your own inheritance. This was clearly a complex situation. From the earlier encounter with the court, it would seem even Yon's claim came with the condition of her in his bed.

So, if Yon was the only son of the eldest male in the family, the Princess was his aunt and Ronan was his cousin. Yon was also in charge of two out of the three military pillars, but Ronan controlled the most powerful group; the zealous Accusers.

Pieces began to fall into place, comments made by Yon and Ætlass over their trip took on new meaning with this context. With the Emperor ageing and a bride-less heir apparent, there was the suspicion of potential betrayal or at least valid competition for the throne. Some of the men in the room tonight certainly appeared to dislike her presence.

Yon was right to warn her of trust amongst these walls. Even if he himself could not be trusted.

She looked at the woman in the mirror, who had just finished braiding her hair. She wondered where this woman's loyalties lay, with her son or her nephew? Was her assistance purely out of duty? Or something akin to motherly affection?

What nest of vipers had she managed to fall into?

* * *

She didn't see Yon again before the day of the ceremony, it was customary here not to. Most of the time she was taught what she needed to do for the ceremony. She even attended some bathing ceremony which was apparently necessary, she didn't ask too many questions about this particular ceremony as she knew it was tied to their religion. She felt in this instance, the less she knew, the less willing a participant she was, and her gods may forgive any unknown trespass easier. 

She had been taught what to say at her wedding and had it explained to her in her own tongue, so she understood what she was agreeing to. Her lapse in judgement and misplaced trust of her first few days had meant she was now fiercely interested in every aspect of this part, so as not to be blindly agreeing to something.

The ceremony itself was bathed in ritual, she doubted every Rus had to go through such things to mate but she was binding herself to a Prince and a kingdom. The ceremony wasn't too different from her own, just a different god, and candles were lit instead of a sacrifice. She still had to pledge herself to her husband and promise to obey. She sensed that this would be more shrewdly adhered to here than at home, that few women would speak out against their husbands. 

She did wonder what that would mean for her. Yon had seemed to like her free tongue and open quips, but that was when she was a traveling companion and not his wife. Would he hold a tighter leash once she became his wife and subject?

Only time would tell, and she had every intention to push him to his limits, she would not easily concede ground to him.

The day of the ceremony started early. It would consist of two parts: the ritual claiming of the bride and then the wedding in the Hall of the Supreme.

As soon as dawn broke Vers was raised from the warmth of her bed and the servants began to prepare her. She was laced into a white soft wool gown, trimmed with lace and fur. An outer garment of lace detailed with the shape of their star was placed over the dress. Each star had a pearl sewn into its centre. Finally, she was wrapped in a white fox fur coat; long ropes of pearls were placed around her neck.

One of the women started to brush her hair, she saw the white pearl lined headpiece on a cushion on the table. Vers halted the woman's hands. " _ Let me _ " Vers insisted; she would not wear her hair like a foreigner, she would wear it proud like a Viking. She couldn't care less who she upset.

Whilst another woman placed white slippers on her feet, Vers started to braid sections of her hair. The poor girl who originally was set to the task watched for a few moments before assisting her; Vers was left with something far nicer than what she could achieve on her own. The girl pinned her hair up with a giant sharp looking bone hairpin. Vers like the idea of having a weapon on hand.

After they made their finishing touches, the girl picked up the headdress and placed it on Vers' head but did not secure it.

She was then guided through the hallways to where the Emperor and a few others stood waiting for her. Her path was littered with red petals and berries which crushed beneath her feet. 

She walked to the Emperor and curtsied. He bowed to her and placed a rope of red beads around her neck. He leant forward and placed a kiss on the top of her forehead. She found it strange, but apparently it was a farewell blessing, one her father should have provided her were he here. 

She was then led to a small boat decorated for the wedding. It looked like a funeral barge, covered in flowers and candles, she silently scoffed at the irony. She stepped in and lied down. A group of men lifted her and walked her towards the water. The platform on which she had been greeted had been transformed; the floor had been opened and a pully mechanism was in place, allowing them to lower her into the water. 

She looked up and around from her perch, again the bay was lined with people, waving and celebrating, different coloured banners swung in the breeze. A rope was attached to the bow of the small boat before she was lowered into the water. She slowly drifted through the dark archway where their ship had docked on her first day and into the light of the bay. She looked up and women showered her with more flower petals as she drifted along.

Suddenly the boat lurched as the rope became taut, pulling her forward towards the opposite end of the bay. She craned her head to look forward, where the sea gate stood was now a platform sitting on the water. Standing proudly upon it was Yon, with the other end of the rope in his hands. He was dragging her forth across the bay, reeling her in as if she were a fish and he the fishermen; the ritual claiming of the bride. 

If he had the strength and stamina to reel her in, he was worthy of her hand. She didn't understand it; she wouldn't float away or drown. He could just wait there and the little boat would make its way to him eventually, but it was tradition.

As she moved across the bay, she used the moment to remove the headpieces from her head, perhaps she could lose it in the water? She reconsidered when the thought it could have been a family belonging. She would hate for anything to happen to the things she had left of her parents, she could not do that to the Princess Yulia or even Yon.

She cut through the water with great speed, she absentmindedly was impressed with the strength he must be using to pull her and the laden wooden boat along. It wasn't long before she started to slow and drift towards the platform under the boat's own momentum. Soon the boat butted up against the floating wood and Yon was looking down upon her. He was dressed handsomely in a green coat trimmed in gold. His eyes roamed over her and she felt a shiver run through her, the desire she saw there made her stomach flutter, but she had to remind herself that he was a liar.

Yon knelt and offered her his hand. She looked at it and thought of the last time he had done so. She had thought she was saying goodbye to him, that it was the last chance they would have to touch each other, before he led her like a lamb to slaughter. She had no idea he would be the lion. She reached up and took his hand, despite herself.

He lifted her into a sitting position and then guided her from the boat to the platform. The crowds cheered; their Prince had won his prize. With her hand still in his, he carefully led her from the platform and through the corridors of the wall. They were flanked by guards as they walked, he continued to look over to her, as if to check she was still there, she was certain he wanted to talk. She didn't, especially with so many others around.

They reached the end of the walkway and prepared to exit and walk through the streets on their way to the Temple of the Supremor for the ceremony. The guards left first, and the pair waited for the signal to continue. She stood in silence, watching the door and trying her hardest not to look his way.

He finally mustered the courage to speak up. "Would...is there something Viking you would like to do in honour of the occasion?" he asked her tentatively.

Her heart swelled a little at the question; she was touched by the fact he was considering her traditions in this moment. She had expected him to protest his innocence again or defend his honour for lying, not consider her desires in this charade. The feeling was short lived, as she started to question his intention. Was this just to win her over? Make it easier for their wedding night if she was lulled into supplication instead of raging mad that he was dishonest to the core? Anger began to build again, it was not the same seething turmoil as the night of the banquet, but more bitter.

She turned on him glaring. "Why would I sully my traditions, by asking the Gods to bless my union to dishonest lying scum, who I want nothing to do with? I would rather throw myself into the lake and freeze before I honour or bless  _ this  _ in the ways of my people.” she bit back quietly and refused to look at him again.

Yon was hurt, more so than he should have been. He knew she would not have wanted to perform her own rituals for Ronan, she had given him that impression when he had curiously discussed it with her on the journey. Yet he’d hoped after she had a few days to recover from the shock and see the truth, she may reconsider for him, for them. Clearly not. Perhaps her affections were only the result of a desperate woman disenchanted with her future husband, and did not come from any real interest in him. A disappointed sigh escaped him before he could control it. Why did she have to be so difficult and headstrong? He mimicked her and focused on the door, at any moment the guards would return and accompany them through the streets to the great Temple, where the wedding would be held. In a matter of moments, Vers and he would be joined forever. Despite her prickly attitude the idea did not disturb him as he first thought when this marriage was forced upon him.

The condition that he must have a bride, when his bloodline should have ensured his succession was insulting and preposterous. He was no less qualified than Ronan, yet he imagined that had it been Ronan's ascension in question, the same condition would not have been issued. He had raged at the council’s conditions; even more so when they specified that they would choose. He had assumed that princesses of their allies, or noble women in their own land would have been paraded in an endless procession until one had been deemed suitable by the caucus, whilst he was forced to tolerate them in the hope to find compatibility. 

Instead he was ordered to personally deliver supplies to the Vikings and return with the bride they would send in payment. It had seemed the council thought so little of him, that he was not even worthy of a decent bride. None of it was what he was promised, nor what he wanted. Yet it wasn't some pig mucking, reed thin, starving simpleton who owned a sword which he found waiting for him, but this beautiful, fiery, smart mouthed warrior. Try as he might, he could not get her out from under his skin.

The doors opened, blinding him slightly as the daylight filtered into the darker entry way. The crowd lining the way roared in delight, and already started to throw berries and flowers ahead of them. She walked next to him tall and proud, smiling occasionally at the crowd. She may not have been what he wanted but now he didn't think he would want anyone else.

* * *

Inside the Temple, giant balls of flowers and candles hung from the ceiling everywhere. Vers wondered where they could have all come from in the deep of winter. A large congregation area led to an altar shaped in the Star of Hælla, suspended above was the same star made of bronze. Behind this was a smaller round chamber, with the same alter but the star was carved into the wood of the wall opposite them. It was more intimate than the larger hall, and Vers was thankful. It was beginning to become overwhelming. The Rus Temple was larger than even Odin's at Uppsala.

The smaller chamber was similarly decorated to the hall. Inside, the altar was covered by a deep green cloth, in the centre was an iron star on top of an ornate metal box, what she believed was called a  _ book _ , and two tall candles. The room was already full of the royal family and the council. Behind the altar stood a man in an overabundance of stiff robes and a jewelled metal helm on his head. It looked exactly like the domes on the roofs of the building in the city. This must be their high priest.

The room was full of incense which hung heavy in the air and stifled all around her. Before the altar were two cushions, Yon led her to them, and they knelt. The priest began to recite words Vers knew where neither Norse nor Rus.

He opened the box and removed two thin candles, he lit the small taper from its larger counterpart near Yon and handed him the smaller flame. The priest repeated the action with its twin and handed her the taper. Another prayer was said, and he turned his back once again.

Yon leaned in to her just slightly and whispered quietly "May He in his Supreme Intelligence provide us the light in our hearts on our journey together." Despite her coldness, he was still trying to help her, translating the language she did not know, so she knew where in the ceremony they were. He then began to stand and prompted her to follow with a slight tug on her hand. He guided her to her feet, helping her from being caught in the layers of her dress.

Together they circled the altar slowly, symbolising the journey they were to take together. When they returned to their starting point, the priest had produced a silver bowl and a beautiful hilted blade. He reached his hand out to Yon who presented their joined hands. He rolled their sleeves away from their forearms and held the bowl beneath. Vers prepared herself for the sting of the blade. She had expected a larger gash, but the priest only sliced her skin slightly, not enough to leave much of a scar but enough for her and Yon to bleed into the bowl. She watched as their blood mixed, a deep ruby red inside the shining silver cradle. He removed the bowl and wiped their arms clean. He poured their blood into a chalice and presented it to Yon. 

Yon took the cup, whilst the priest talked he focused entirely on Vers, holding her eyes and never looking away. When the priest finished, Yon answered ' _ Da' _ and drank, all the while watching her. He passed the chalice to her, and the priest repeated his words. When the priest stopped, she paused, this was where she was asked to obey and subject herself to her husband. The idea caused her to bristle, she would never, it was not in her nature to be supplicant, but her survival in this world depended on it. 

She replied as she had been told to  _ "Da". _ She too drank from the cup. The look in his eyes changed as she drank, his pupils blew wide and his eyes glinted with something unknown to her. This would join them by blood, irreparably bound together by body and spirit. As their joined blood ran down her throat, she shivered at the idea. Her body being bound to his, made her feel strange, as much as she disliked the idea, it thrilled a part of her, called to something deep within her she did not realise was there.

The pair kneeled once more; this time boys dressed like the priest brought forth two crowns. The priest removed the larger from its cushion and placed it on Yon's head after more words she didn't understand the sound of but gathered their meaning. The new Prince was crowned, Hæla had its heir. She too was given a matching smaller one, fit for a princess. They stood once more, and turned, presented to the Emperor and Council. The next generation of rulers.

Yon presented his bride to the Emperor, who had once again resumed sitting in his gilded chair. They both bowed, and he in turn stood and embraced Yon with a smile. Vers felt that this was the first genuine show of emotion from any of them. The Princess Yulia was next, she too smiled yet it did not reach her eyes.

They proceeded out of the temple, and through the streets once more until they reached the great hall. The crowds that saw them cheered, they seemed happy for their future ruler and his Queen. Yon led her through the hall, back to the platformed area. The Emperor and the others had already arrived. This surprised Vers at first, there must have been a shorter route, or the two buildings were connected somehow. Something for her to explore later. She felt Yon stroke her hand with his thumb, she found it soothing. He must have remembered her falter the last time she was on the dais with the cheering crowds. Why did he have to be so caring yet inconsiderate enough to lie through his teeth?

The Emperor's voice rang out "_People_ _of Hæla, welcome your new Grand Prince and Princess_".

She breathed deeply before they walked through the doorway and into full view of the people. There seemed to be more people surrounding the bay now than before, there were now boats full of people inside and outside the sea gate. It felt as if everyone had come out to see. They walked through the doors and up to the railing. The deafening roar of the crowd was intimidating; drums beat out a rhythm and horns sounded in celebration. She felt like she was on top of the world, staring down at all the people. Was this how the gods felt? Was this why they never stayed on earth? Who would want to walk among men when you could stand above with them at your mercy?

Staring out at the crowd, part of her wanted to shy away, but she began to understand what was at play here. To have this power over so many, she could begin to understand why those who stood behind her would fight each other for it. She just hoped that Yon's desire for the role was out of genuine care to lead these people, and not short sighted selfishness.

She stood in the middle of her new bedroom, it was giant, round and as beautifully ornate as the rest of the complex. A fire was burning in a raised pit in the centre, candles were scattered along various trunks and tables, dimly lighting the room. She shed the layers of fur, beads, and lace like a snake would its skin, with each layer removed she felt lighter and free. She looked for somewhere to place them. She deposited them on a trunk when the large, low bed covered in various furs and cushions drew her eye; it was easily larger than her entire home back in Skūlløs. It was lavish and looked ridiculously comfortable. She hated it. It would be her marriage bed, where she bound herself to a man that had lied to her and taken her from her home. Bitterness welled up inside of her, she hated him, she thought she could trust him and he had tricked her. 

She forced her eyes from the layers of welcoming furs, deciding to better inspect  _ anything _ else in the room. She looked at the roof and noticed that the panels which would let in the sun's light in this room were not of the same recurring pattern as the ones in the great hall, but in fact matched the stars in the sky. Each panel had its own constellation. She saw the wagon, Friggerock, Lokabrenna, Ulf's Kept, and the one above the bed was Leiðarstjarna - the north star. She stared wide eyed with her mouth open in wonder, twirling slowly to look at each. 

She didn't hear the sifting of the heavy curtain at the entrance of the room. Yon leaned against the frame and simply watched her in her awe. It bought a small smile to his lips, seeing her in his space, in their space, before he remembered her words from earlier. 

He pushed off the wall and approached her slowly, it was their wedding night and she wanted nothing to do with him. Two could play at this game; he would get what he wanted.

He approached her from behind, and she stiffened. She found herself caught between him and the bed. She knew what he expected, and a shiver ran down her spine. A few days ago, she had been willing to lay with him, and enjoy it, but now things were different. He crowded into her, she could feel the heat from his body, as he was barely a breath away. She smelt the wine from their dinner feast, she almost wished she had drunk more. He reached up slowly and tucked a piece of her hair, which had fallen loose, behind her ear. She watched him from the corner of her eye, his golden eyes catching the glint from the firelight. He looked at her so intently she felt she could burst into flames. His fingers continued a slow trail down her neck, her skin prickled where he made contact, her body betraying her. Her breath caught and she hoped he had not noticed.

"You looked beautiful today, I'm glad you didn't cover your hair." She had hoped the act would annoy him, not endear her more to him. 

"I am a Viking, and I will wear my hair as such!" she snapped at him softly. He smiled briefly, amused at her continued defiance.

His fingers continued down her neck and skimmed the skin above the collar of her dress. This time she did shiver but tried to hide it with the setting of her shoulders.

Part of her wanted to run, but where could she go? She would only be dragged back here; she could not avoid the inevitable.

His fingers found the tie of her dress and pulled it open. She felt the brush of his knuckles against her back as he slowly pulled each crossing apart, the fabric slowly falling away from skin, exposing her to the warmth of the room and his gaze. He reached the bottom, running his fingers back up her spine to part the fabric. He then reached up and removed the pin from her hair, her braids and curls fell around her face, brushing her shoulders. She tensed, this was it; the beginning of her end, she wasn't even sure a part of her would mind. What could she do? Fight her way out? He was their Prince, this would be no issue between man and wife, but sovereign and subject, it would be treason. She felt his hand comb through hair before brushing the ends from her shoulder. She shivered at the intimacy of his touch, enjoying it.

His hands braced her shoulders, drawing her to him as he leaned in to whisper into her ear. She felt the warm heat of his breath against the shell of her ear and shivered with a desire she was trying so hard to fight. "I will not bed an unwilling woman." He released her suddenly and left the room. She was alone and left bereft, from both his presence and the assumed expectations. 

She released a breath she had not realised she had held.

She turned to face the way he had gone, she almost wanted him to come back. Instead she continued to remove the clothes he had released her from. She found a night shift in one of the low trunks and then crawled under the furs. The fire dwindled as she waited to see if he would return, he did not, so she let sleep take her.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vers meets a familiar face, and so do we. 
> 
> All our players are now on the board.

She was awoken the next morning when a shield and plated armour landed on her chest. A gruff "Up!" was all she heard aside from the clinking of metal as she shifted beneath it.

"What?" She asked groggily, trying to understand what was happening after the shock of being 'attacked' in bed. Yon stood above her, in fresh clothing and looking rested. She wondered where he had slept, and how he had explained why he wasn't with her.

"Your training starts today." There was a mischievous air about him. She had expected him angry and upset, not … this.

"What training?" What possible princess training would require a shield? She was suspicious of his intent.

"I do not go back on my promises, you will start your training with the StarKree. Now up!" He pulled the cover from over her, the air was freezing. She yelped and clutched for the fur, yet he held it from her. She looked to the fire bowl and found it unlit.

He walked away, blanket in hand, and she swore he was smirking. He pointed to a wooden chest behind a screen, before leaving the room. She guessed that was where her clothes were stored. She tentatively crossed the room, the cold nipping at her feet. This must be her punishment for last night. So what? If he didn't warm her bed nothing would? She grumpily cursed at him as she dressed. He was the one that left, why should she be punished? Let's see how he likes playing those games when Goose is around. Who needs a prince to keep you warm when you have a cat?! Although Goose was less useful for lighting a fire.

She needed to befriend some of the servants, he can't completely freeze her out if she had them on her side. Surely there were some benefits to being a princess?

After dressing for training, she met him outside the room, he leaned against the wall as if he had all day. The blanket was nowhere in sight; so, the servants must be involved. He straightened and beckoned her onwards with a nod of his head.

After leaving the palace through a section she had yet to see, they walked the streets. They had walked in silence the entire way, she was mad at his stunt, and his apparent lack of care to comment on anything from the day before. She wouldn't ask him where he slept, that would show she was interested, which she wasn't, in the least. Vers tried to pay attention to her surroundings, it wasn't long until they came to a very ominous looking building.

"This is the barracks; this is where the StarKree live and train." Yon explained as they ascended the stairs to entry. Vers looked around in awe, anger forgotten. She had trained in a field near the village or in a stables Fūry had converted. Nothing like the hallways she travelled now. The building was all stone, in the different rooms she peeked through she saw a mass of weapons on racks, or people polishing armour.

They exited the hallway and onto a balcony which overlooked a dirt square. 50 men stood in lines and went through drills, she recognised a few of the forms from her sparring with Yon. Walking between the lines of men was a svelte woman with long raven black hair. She passed each soldier with a cold keen look, she inspected each for the tiniest flaw in their formations. Occasionally she would call out a word, in a clipped voice, and the drills reset. She seemed a hard task master. 

"Your highness!" A booming jolly voice rang out to their right. Vers turned to see an older man move toward them with a smile on his face and his arms opened wide. It was the first truly warm gesture she had seen since her arrival. Yon stepped forward and embraced the man. "I didn't expect to see you here so soon, shouldn't you be off enjoying your newly wedded bliss?" The jolly man towered over Yon as he clapped Yon on the back, chuckling at his own jest with a smile twice as wide as before. He seemed familiar but Vers could not place him.

"Bronn" Yon said in greeting, freely returning the man's embrace.

"Well?" Asked the man as they separated, Yon must have indicated she was there, as Bronn looked up at her. His demeanour changed to one of mild embarrassment. "My apologies Lady Vers."

"Princess" Yon gently corrected. Vers was more concerned how this man recognised her and knew her name. But perhaps that was to be expected when she had been paraded around since she got here; another thing to get used to.

"Apologies Grand Princess!" The man bowed to her and looked genuinely contrite. 

"It's alright, I'm still getting used to it myself." She offered, he shouldn't feel bad for something so simple, and he seemed honest and friendly.

"May I introduce to you an old friend and trusted comrade, Commander Bronn. He is a senior member of the Družyna, and my second in command."

"I used to be his trainer when he was younger too. Taught him everything he knows. He forgets to mention that." Bronn winked at her as he continued to tease his superior. Vers couldn't help but smile. This man's joy was infectious.

A regimented shout from the men below drew their attention back to their surroundings and away from the jovial banter.

It was at that point Bronn noticed how Vers was dressed. "Isn't it a little late to be vetting her now by sending her into the Bear's cave?"

Yon smiled at that comment, "The Princess is a fierce warrior, the best of her people. It is only fitting that she be trained with the best of ours."

"Well then good luck Princess, you'll need it." Bronn offered.

Vers was about to protest the insulting insinuation that she couldn't handle basic Kree training, but Yon spoke first.

"She's tougher than you think." Then clapped his friend on the shoulder "I will come find after we're done." Bronn nodded and walked the way he had come.

Once he was out of earshot, she surmised "He taught you my language, didn't he?"

Yon ushered them toward a door which must lead down the stairs. "He did indeed. How did you guess that?"

"He talked to you in my tongue before he noticed me not after." Yon looked at her impressed. She was caught between the swell of pride that she'd impressed him and the annoyance at the thought that he found something so trivial impressive by his standards of her. She decided to move past it and onto something that she couldn't quite figure out so easily.

"Isn't your Aunt the Grand Princess?" She enquired; these titles would do her head in she was certain.

"She is, as are you, but as of yesterday you became the highest-ranking woman in the family, by marrying the highest-ranking male, besides the Emperor, of course."

"So, I… outrank her?" She tried to understand what that could mean.

"Correct." He confirmed

"I doubt she liked that." Vers mumbled more to herself than anything.

He huffed with what she thought might have been a laugh "No I doubt she does not, and no doubt she'll pretend you don't. But for now, you have other things to put your mind to."

The square was now vacant except for the woman from before. Up close Vers could see how truly beautiful she was. Her sleek raven hair framed a face of fine features, high checks, slim nose and almond shaped brown eyes. Her skin glowed and was unblemished, near impossible for most warriors, even Vers had a small scar or two. She was tall, long limbed, and curved in the right places. The leather and metal ensemble she wore left nothing to the imagination. Vers was more than a little intimidated. As the woman approached, she visibly looked Vers up and down, with the same keen assessment she gave her men. She did not seem impressed with what she saw.

"So, this is her?" She looked straight to Yon, not bothering to even acknowledge Vers. Rude!

"Indeed. Vers has promise; she's skilled and a trained warrior. She just needs some honing and polish."

"We'll see about that" the woman sniffed dismissively.

Yon turned to Vers, not even bothering to correct this woman on her behaviour as he did with Bronn only moments ago. "This is Commander Minerva; she is the head of the training program of StarKree. It is her duty to train our finest warriors. As promised, she will be your teacher."

Vers nodded in understanding, she looked to Minerva for further instructions, all she received was a head jerk indicating to stand in the courtyard. She did as commanded, she didn't need this woman making her training hell. She removed her coat and walked to the centre of the yard, she looked back at the pair standing in the shadows of the overhang, she seemed all forgotten by them.

The pair talked quietly before Yon turned to leave. He gave her a soft smile, and reached out and squeezed her arm, she returned the gesture; far more intimate than General and Commander. Jealousy bubbled up inside Vers, she tried to quash it; who cares if he had a lover? She didn't want him, so let someone else have him. He had a life before their paths collided with each other, she couldn't expect otherwise. She looked away before they noticed her watching them. Now she knows where he slept last night. 

Minerva approached her "Basic Stance!" She commanded. She would assess Vers the same way Yon had. Vers complied, shifting her feet into the position Yon had taught her. Minerva circled her, like she was nothing but prey. 

"First stance." Vers shifted again, this time Minerva moved to adjust her limbs until she held the position correctly.

This pattern repeated, until Vers met moves she did not know, which Minerva then demonstrated before Vers mimicked.

As they went through moves together, Vers tried hard not to compare herself to Minerva. To not look too closely at the difference between them, to not see things he might like more in this woman than in her. She caught herself more than once, trying to shake the notion from her skull. 

Once Minerva seemed satisfied, they moved into drill patterns. After a while, Minerva walked off, leaving Vers confused as to what to do next.

Minerva returned to her with a dulled training sword, she wanted to see how Vers fared with the weapon. It wasn't long before the sounds of sword clanging filled the air. They were evenly matched; it was not easy for one to get a blow in before the other blocked.

"So, I heard you wanted to marry Ronan instead?" This was the only non-command Minerva had said to her, and it was the last thing she had expected to hear.

Vers faltered in her block, almost allowing her opponent to hit her arm "No! I never said that." What had Yon told her?

Vers was on the back foot, trying to recover as Minerva pushed her advantage."Mmm… that's not what I was told." 

"I don't know who told you that, but they were lying." Vers was struggling now, she was being pressed backwards towards a pillar, she twisted in her parry and tried to gain ground and space. She was distracted. Normally there wasn't talking in a fight.

"I'd watch who you accuse of being a liar… no one here knows you yet; they're not likely to believe you over anyone else, blondie." Minerva warned. It was a good point. What else was being said and whispered through the halls? Was that what this woman thought, when Yon had come to her bed on his wedding night?

Vers was beginning to tire; Minerva had a lot of stamina. There was a reason she was in charge. It was impressive. The sun seemed to come out then and peek through the clouds, Vers could feel its rays warming her back. A gentle comforting caress on her skin, warming her muscles.

Vers noticed the light glinting off her blade and got an idea. She doubted a StarKree warrior would approve but she is Viking; fighting dirty was her style. She twisted her blade quickly, angling the light right into Minerva's eyes, causing her to flinch away before Vers kicked out and swept Minerva's feet from under her.

Minerva landed on her back; Vers pinned her sword hand and aimed at her throat. She'd won this round, and she couldn't be happier.

* * *

After leaving Vers in the capable hands of Minerva, Yon went in search of Bronn. Whilst he genuinely wanted Vers to train and become the best version of herself, he also didn't mind if Minn pushed her and knocked her down a peg or two. It wasn't the most mature reaction to their current situation, but he didn't care. He was never this rash nor childish even in his youth. She brought this out in him. He already knew she didn't appreciate it when he'd ordered the servants to not attend their room, nor fix the fire overnight. They had assumed he wanted privacy; they were not to know he wasn't returning. The yelp she gave when he'd pulled the covers out of reach was satisfying. 

He also knew the council would want proof of consummation, so he made quick work of staining the fur blanket before handing it to a maid to deal with.

He found Bronn in the kitchens, unsurprisingly. The man always had an appetite. With a plate in hand the two men went for a walk. 

"I don't know what to tell you" Bronn started with a mouthful of half-eaten bread. After we left the convoy, Ronan and his men travelled east like he said. We arrived at Ur'dycka a day later and put down the rebellion with the other Accuser ships which met us there."

Yon nodded silently as Bronn delivered his report. "It was mostly farm folk, spurred on by a few militia men from the fringes near the Kolkhí; men claiming we were false rulers, wanting to go back to before the Empire bought them peace and light. Not remembering how bad it was for them before."

"No connection to the Thanosians?"

"Not as far as I could tell. The few of our men I had asked around. It was mostly land and taxes they complained about, not the Supremor. That said… none of us ever got to see the ring leaders until their execution."

Whilst not unusual in circumstances such as this, the retelling led Yon to believe something suspicious had happened. Perhaps he was just being paranoid, suspecting Ronan of crimes he had not committed nor would. They were family, he should be more trusting and not see monsters in the shadows.

"They were accused and judged by Ronan behind closed doors. Their execution was public, but they were beaten bloody and in no shape for talking then. There were no last moment confessions before they met the collective. Ronan claimed that they had no more to tell. We returned a few days before you."

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, yet Yon still couldn't shake the feeling something wasn't right. "Why there? Ur'dycka is further North than the Kolkhí normally venture, even for trade."

"Apparently they went from town to town until someone listened. Proper fools if you ask me, got lucky enough for someone to listen and unlucky enough that they weren't big enough to hold their ground." Replied Bronn, around another mouthful of food.

"So, they acted alone? No indication as to additional troops?"

"None. But as I said, Ronan accused them alone. I asked but got nowhere. It wasn't my place to push further, we just fight, they accuse." Bronn had done as much as he could given the circumstances.

Yon had no choice but to take all of this at face value. He left Bronn after some more attempted lewd comments and walked back to the training yard.

When he returned to observe how the lesson was going, Vers was struggling with Minerva herding her back with ease towards a pillar for a final blow. Vers was trying to defend herself but was losing ground fast. A fact she noticed and tried to avoid. 

As the grey sky above opened to allow the rare winter sun to shine through. The light hit her yellow hair and it shone brighter than he had ever seen it, like liquid gold. How beautiful she would look in the summer. He thought for a moment that her skin also began to glow as the sun kissed it with its light, but that would be impossible. He thought then of what she had boasted; that she was the granddaughter of the sun god, looking at her standing over Minnerva bathed in the sunshine, he could see why she would think that. He shook his head at the ridiculous idea, there was only the one God.

Minerva glared up at Vers before she composed herself. Minerva never liked to lose in all their time together, she was a worse loser than him. The constant competition is why they worked so well together, pushing each other's boundaries, whilst supporting their wins. They had earned their positions fairly, with blood and sweat. This loss would no doubt put her and Vers at odds, yet he knew that it would not compromise her professionalism and continue to train her new pupil thoroughly. If anything, it would spur her onwards to ensure she became better herself.

His slow claps echoed through the chamber, garnering both their attention. Vers stepped off her opponent and offered Minn her hand. Minn ignored it, as he suspected she might. "As much as you both would love to continue this, we have another pressing engagement we must attend" he announced to the women. Vers looked as if she would protest, either to the end of the lesson or to his ordering her around. "Unless, you would also like Minerva to become your language tutor?" This reasoning seemed to placate her, and she handed her sword back.

With a nod to Minn, whom he would see again later that evening, he guided Vers out of the barracks to their next destination.

He had contemplated asking Bronn to tutor her as they were of the same background, yet he felt that she might appreciate someone less connected with him directly, to give her a greater sense of freedom. Therefore, a scholar from the library had volunteered when asked, and would be suitable enough to answer any of her other questions as they arose.

He left her and attended to the rest of his day. When he returned to the palace, he requested a guard and servant to fetch her at the allotted time so she could return safely until she knew the city better. He needed to see his grandfather privately and discuss the ascension and the council. 

He was a reasonable man; he understood their concerns. After the assassination of his father and his uncle, the family and council were at a loss. No one ever would have expected the Crown Prince AND the leader of the Accusers to be killed at the same time, not only leaving the Empire without an heir, but with no military leaders, as both their generals lay dying on the floor of the Temple after protecting the Emperor with their lives.

Ronan was barely seven years older than Yon, but that was enough to enable him to grow through the ranks of Accusers, spurred on by the indignation of his father's death, to claim the man's title and role before Yon was even of age to start his own training.

He was but a child, whilst Ronan had become a man, especially in the eyes of the council. The council needed the security which Yon's age could not have given despite the titles which were bestowed upon him by birthright. Yet that was over twenty years ago. He still felt the council saw him as that same child, not the man, the _warrior_ _general_ he had become today.

The past was gone, fear had no place here; it only serves the enemies of the Empire. But with his Grandfather's declining health all the uncertainties of the stability of the Empire arose once again. And once again, if history were to repeat itself, the Empire would be left with a child as its leader. Yon had done his best to ensure that the StarKree and the Družyna would not be left in turmoil again, the leadership structure would remain intact, and Minerva and Bronn would work together to keep the Empire safe in his absence. 

The same could not be said for the Accusers; over the years Ronan had become more zealous, indoctrinating more of their religion into its practices. The Accusers were no longer just their arm of justice and law, but an extension of the church, with him at its helm. Yon doubted there was a contingency plan within its ranks should something happen. No doubt Ronan saw such a fate as impossible.

Yon admired Ronan's belief, his absolute faith in the Supremor. Their lives revolved around the grace of their God, in His Supreme Intelligence He guided their lives and safely delivered their souls into the collective upon their deaths. His Grandfather was merely a vessel for the Supremor's will on this mortal plain, and the Empire he built was one destined to bring the lands under the protection of the one true God.

Yet Ronan's faith was on another level entirely. It was accepted amongst the Empire that those under their care could practice their old ways, as those blessed by the Supremor's light knew that eventually those in the dark would come to understand and willingly be shepherded by him. Over the years many had converted their faith of their own volition. 

Yet Ronan felt this was a fundamental sacrilege, that all in the Empire should convert or else be left in the cold as enemies of the Supremor. Yon politely disagreed, but one’s personal beliefs did not have to be reflected in their professional role. Yon felt the line between professional and personal was blurring for Ronan, but it was only a feeling. Ronan still had the favour and admiration of most within the council, many of which were deeply religious as well, or at least appeared to be. Perhaps that was just a front to hide their personal beliefs and distaste for certain things?

Yon was more than aware that he was closer in relation to many of the servants who worked for them as well as a few council members, than most were led to believe. His grandfather kept a harem, in the tradition of his own forefathers. Yon also doubted that his grandfather only kept it to those women and had not pursued the wives of his ministers. There was more than one younger council member who had looks which were familiar to him. Nor was he naive enough to think the same wasn't said for his own father. Which meant there could be countless numbers of illegitimate heirs just waiting for the chance to take what they had a blood right to. Why back a man with a mind of his own, who wanted to rule, when you could have one who was focused more on his own righteous path than politics, leaving others with the real power as they puppeteered Ronan along?

These were all merely whispers and intuition; suspicions which were unfounded. He was looking for enemies where there were none. Yet he could not help it. He was so certain he had angered fate, that this arrangement with Vers was not meant to be and he would fall as a result. He knew he was being foolish, that he was not being rational. Prophecies were for heretics, not the enlightened believers of the Supremor, and yet the words told to him remained with him.

Yon had arrived in the private space of the Emperor where his grandfather held closed council sessions. His grandfather sat at his desk, with the Chancellor of State and the Patriarch of the Temple. Both present to officiate his ascension on paper.

“Good! Come my boy, read this.” The Emperor beckoned him forward and slid a piece of parchment across the desk on Yon’s approach. All seemed well enough, he was the named and rightful heir to the throne, his own sons would henceforth inherit after him, unless otherwise stated by him in writing. He would retain all existing military titles, unless he relinquished them to a subordinate of his choice. He would inherit the empire to its current borders and any additional lands claimed hereafter. No split of lands, no split of titles, no split of power, yet he couldn't help but wonder “What is the catch?”

“What do you mean Yon?” the Emperor asked gruffly.

“With the resistance the council held, and the conditions placed on my name being allowed near this paper, I’m surprised there are not more conditions here.”

The Emperor eyed him wearily, “You have a wife now, I would have thought you’d be in a better mood today for it. Did she not live up to expectations? Is your line not to be secured?”

“She will live up to your expectations I am sure.” Yon didn't know how to answer those questions, Vers was not at all what he expected. 

“But not yours?” The Emperor watched his grandson, he then dismissed the others with a growl of frustration. “You rely too much on the words of that old crone.”

“She predicted Oleg’s death” Yon countered; he knew where this conversation was leading. 

“By a horse and the dumb fuck kicked a snake. Hardly accurate enough to live your life in the shadow of suspicion. You have a pretty woman warming your bed, something even I admit I doubted would happen.” the Emperor continued with a sigh “If it is men you want then fine! Take as many to your bed as you like, but you  _ need  _ an heir, Hæla  _ needs  _ an heir.  _ That _ is why the council mandated you take a wife, despite your stupid fear that something will now happen to you because you didn’t fulfil some blind witch’s rantings. It is the council’s job to act in the interest of the Empire’s people whilst we lead. Now they have the security of an unbroken line, why would they take more from you?”

Yon had no answer to give that would not support the point the Emperor wanted to make, so he stood in silence. The Emperor banged a gavel and the other men returned. Yon signed the parchment by their witness, and they followed in suit. It was official. He finally had his father’s title.

* * *

Later that evening Yon returned to his rooms to find Vers lounging on the cushions near the hearth, picking at their dinner, with a familiar orange ball of fur on her lap. He entered, startling her; she must not have expected company. She had in her hand a scroll, as he approached, he recognised it. It was a record of common Rus words and their Scandi equivalent. He proceeded to join her, positioning himself on the opposite side of the food. “So how were your lessons?” he enquired as he helped himself to some hard cheese. 

“Good, although we didn't get much further than what you had already taught me. I did learn a few more words. I made him teach me  _ ‘Please, slowly, I do not understand’ _ . Hopefully that gets me by a little.” She reached for a piece of fruit, and went back to her scroll, she seemed keenly intent on it. He watched her as her lips silently sounded out the words. He smiled at her, she applied herself keenly to master any challenge thrown at her. “ _ How was your day?” _ she asked tentatively in Rus after a few moments. 

His smile grew, he was impressed. “Good; at this rate Bronn will be the only person I’ll have to speak Scandi with.” he jested with her hoping to elicit a smile. He stood and walked over to his chest of clothes, slowly unbuttoning his outer vest.

“It’s Norse, not Scandi. I’m Scandi, I speak Norse.” She corrected him from her position on the couch. He paused to look at her, she hadn’t even lifted her head, so intent on the scroll. It took a moment for him to register what she had said. 

“My apologies!” he said sincerely, “I hadn’t realised I was referring to it incorrectly.” he continued to undress, removing his boots next.

“It’s ok,” she mumbled. He heard the rustling of the scroll as she closed it and then her shift on the couch. “So,  _ how was your day?” _

“Filled with reports and papers” he answered as he stood, removing his pants.

“What are you doing?” her tone had changed, there was the stubborn hostility he had expected from her upon entering. Their game was back on. He would not touch her without her consent; he had meant what he said about not bedding an unwilling woman. Yet he had every intention of changing her mind, she had played her hand already and it was only her endearing stubbornness which was holding her back. She would come to him again, when she was ready. In the meantime, he was going to make it extremely difficult for her to resist. 

“Getting ready for bed.” He smiled to himself as he removed his shirt, he turned to her, standing before her in only his under wrapping. He watched as her eyes bulged, and then swept over his frame. He had felt her curves in the low light of his travelling hut, but she had not seen him. Now she was, he was enjoying every moment of her heated discomfort. 

He walked toward her slowly, not breaking eye contact. He watched as she swallowed and leaned back from him to keep him in focus. He crouched down in front of her and leaned in, he was only a breath away, and could practically feel her pulse quicken. He reached out his hand, and plucked the stem of grapes from the plate, before rising to his feet again, popping one into his mouth. He watched her eyelids flutter as she tried to compose herself. He was enjoying this, more than he should. He turned and walked to the bed, grabbing his undershirt hanging from a screen on his way. He paused at the bed and put the shirt on, feeling her eyes still on him. Eating a few more grapes, he turned to her and climbed in. 

“You can come when you want, just don’t stay up too late. You’ll start again early.” with that he rolled over and made himself comfortable. 

He heard her pad over to the bed, where she stopped at the end “But why are you in  _ here _ ?” he felt her kick the bed emphasising her point.

“It’s my bed or - ” he started 

“But I didn’t invite you.” Her feisty stubbornness did not seem to have an end. Did she really think she could have her own way so easily?

“I don’t need an invitation to  _ my _ bed. It's big enough to share, there is room and spare for both of us.” He nestled in further, intent on ignoring her and getting some sleep “Don’t worry, I won’t touch you, but I don’t fancy another night on cushions; trust me they’re not as comfortable as they look.”

He heard her huff and walk off, no doubt back to her scroll. As the warm embrace of sleep slowly swept over him, he felt the covers pull and the bed sink under her weight. He stirred just long enough to make sure she had no intention of stabbing him in her ire. When he felt her settle too, he let sleep claim him for the night.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroine tries to make new friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear when I'm writing i have pages and pages of text per chapter, then when I see it here its nothing but a blip.

The next morning, she woke when she felt the bed move. Yon had awoken, and as promised hadn't touched her. She looked over to where he had lain, but was met with a fluffy orange ball, who clearly felt the gap between them was a perfect sleeping spot.

Servants entered with food to break her fast, and attended to the fires, and their master.

Vers ate, dressed and was then escorted by a guard to her training and then her tutoring. When she returned in the evening, she ate with Yon; their time was mostly quiet, but she would on occasion ask him about some of the things she had learnt from the tutor.

This pattern continued for days until it became a familiar rhythm. Sometimes she was requested by Princess Yulia to learn the rituals and the ways of the royal household. Other times she attended dinners or small events alongside Yon. Every seventh day she was expected to attend the Temple with everyone else, through which she prayed to the all-father in silence. Servants came to dress her for these occasions, as it was expected she wear particular outfits. Most times Vers dressed herself, in either fighting gear, or simple dresses and furs to fight off the cold. Most of the things she had been given for her wardrobe were finely tailored and more grandiose than she could ever imagine.

She was noticing that as she spent most of her time outside the palace, or at meals with only Yon, she had yet to become familiar with the palace’s inhabitants. She only returned to the women's wing when Yulia called for her, never for the invitation of others, and never of her own volition, mostly as Yon had filled her time with other things. She began to wonder why that was and what damage it may be causing.

Her dinners with Yon became less quiet over the course of the preceding weeks, as she asked more questions, and even at times convinced him to help her with some of her moves. One such night she asked him why she was training and not sewing with the other women.

"Is that what you would prefer?" He huffed out as he defended her blows. He managed to lock her arm in his and twist behind her. He never hurt her, just pushed her to the edge, forcing her to use her strength against him yet knowing she was safe.

"Not really, but I can't help but wonder what they might be saying. I'm not likely to make any allies here otherwise. Commander Minerva already hates me." He released her and they reset their stances.

"I’m sure she doesn't." He offered by ways to placate her growing worries; it was so like men to not see problems right in front of them.

"Of course, she does. I probably would in her position." Vers rolled her shoulder, trying to loosen the muscles before she was no doubt pinned again. She set herself opposite him once more.

"And what might that be?" Yon asked, the way his brow pinched together indicated he was curious as to what she was referring to. Was he really that daft? Or assumed she was? She surged forward with the aim to knock him on his smug ass. He blocked her hit for hit, noticing the extra effort she threw into every punch.

"Being forced to train her lover's wife." She huffed out between each strike of her arm.

That caused him to stop in his tracks, he stared at her and almost missed blocking the right hook she aimed at his jaw.

"What are you talking about?" He looked genuinely confused about her statement, if not a little upset.

"It’s ok, I'm not jealous. She's beautiful; I can see why you chose her, why you two are close. I know that's where you spent the wedding night." she tried not to sound bothered by it.

Yon started to laugh at her, and not the enjoyable kind she was used to in moments between them. This laugh made her feel foolish and small. She punched him in the arm to stop him. "You're jealous!" he accused her through his laughter.

"I just said I’m not jealous!" She defended herself. At least not much.

His laughter had died yet he still smirked at her "Of course not."

She would not take this, not from him. She started to hit his arm again, anything to get him to shut up about it. He grabbed her wrists and held them to his chest, he looked at her straight in the eyes.

"Minerva is my cousin, not my lover. She's like a sister to me. I couldn't imagine her as anything else." Whilst his amusement was still apparent, he was serious with his words.

It dawned on her then, she remembered the words from the Grand Princess on her first night here. "She's Ronan's sister? Princess Yulia's daughter?" Which meant the lies of her wanting Ronan came not from Yon, but from her confession to the mother.

"Correct" he confirmed.

This was not good! Vers felt herself pale.

"Then I  _ really _ need to start spending time with the others." She insisted.

His smile dropped and he regarded her with concern. "Why is that?"

Ver felt her cheeks start to burn "I may have said something to your aunt, which Commander Minerva then provoked me with during training one time. I thought it came from you, as how else could she have found out? But now I know it was the princess, and if it's not, then it was a rumour which has spread, which is even worse."

He released her wrists and looked at her as if she had greatly disappointed him "I warned you not to trust anyone." He lectured her for her behaviour.

"Not even you?" She knew it was low, but he can hardly admonish her for trusting the wrong people, when he'd only really allowed her to meet a small handful. She was prepared to approach these people by herself and go against his wishes, but she wanted to know why first. Why isolate her? Was it intentional or just an oversight?

He sighed and looked down, collecting her hands in his once more. "I will endeavour to earn your trust in me again. But as our futures are tied, I need you to heed my warnings even if you cannot yet trust me. It is not wise to place too much faith in my relatives, or that they will have your best interests at heart. We are opportunistic people by nature, empires cannot be built otherwise. Whilst there may not be malice behind their actions, there is not likely to be much kindness either. When I warned you, I meant not for you to watch for a sword or knife like I do, but to watch your words. In the wrong hands they could do damage, not to me but to you."

He gently released her hands and walked back to where their dinner sat discarded. She weighed his words. He feared a knife, yet not for her. He feared her words. She hated this world of politics and intrigue, where appearances meant more than honesty. She preferred the use of iron over words.

"So, what do I do? Hiding from them won't help? Who knows what they're saying?" She was at a loss of what to do or how to make this better. She was getting frustrated at it all.

" _ Would you _ ?" He countered in Rus; she knew he was trying to be light-hearted; teasing her about her Rus, but it wasn't working.

"No, but I’m learning.  _ Rus is not that hard! _ " She joined him at the cushions and slumped down in a sulk. She watched him whilst he ate. Goose had jumped up on his lap, and he petted the cat absentmindedly. 

"You know I’m going to spend more time with them regardless of what you say."

He sighed deeply, "I’m aware."

"You, Goose, and the scholar can't be the only people I talk to." He looked at her as if he struggled to understand her words. 

"Miner-" he tried to start before she cut him off "Just barks orders and insults at me." He nodded his head slowly; he was beginning to understand.

They finished their meal in silence, so many questions were running around in her head. About Minerva, about the Princess Yulia, about why no one mentioned it earlier. In hindsight she should have known why that icy stare of Minerva's seemed familiar.

However, one question kept coming to the forefront of her mind "Then where did you stay that first night?" She asked quieter than she intended.

He grinned at her question, that same sly grin he had worn when he called her jealous "With Elreg"

"Your uncle?" She questioned curiously, he was, at least she had thought he was the last member of the family she had yet to properly meet. She thought she had seen him at the wedding and in mass, but she was not sure.

"More like little brother." There was a soft warmth to Yon's voice which touched her.

"I have yet to meet him" she commented softly. 

Yon stood, cradling Goose in one arm whilst offering her his other hand. "Come" he offered gently. She reached up and grabbed his hand and he assisted her to stand.

They walked down the hallways of the palace. Vers was still trying to find her way through them all. They reminded her of a rabbit's warren; so many turns and tunnels. They entered a hallway close to where she believed the children of the other women were kept. Here they came across two guards posted outside a door. Yon nodded to the men, who saluted as he walked past.

This room was slightly smaller than theirs, and more brightly coloured and decorated. Yon's chambers were very mute in their tones, and only had the 'essentials'. Here she saw toys and other trinkets scattered around the room. An excited  _ “Yon”  _ rang out and Vers watched as a small form collided with Yon's midsection. He had to lift Goose higher to avoid the poor cat from being crushed. It was a very strange sight. Goose jumped from Yon's arms and slinked across the floor to the bed at the opposite end of the room.

Vers looked down and saw a pair of brown eyes under a mop of chestnut hair sparkle up at Yon as if he were the sun itself. The man warmly embraced the child back before extracting himself from the boy’s clutches.

" _ It seems I have done an egregious injustice to you and have failed to properly introduce to you the mighty Princess Vers, slayer of Giants and warrior of the old gods _ ." Yon teased both her and the boy, but she did not minded.

The young child turned to her with a face of wonder, he bowed quickly as if he had almost forgotten himself before bursting out with " _ Did you really slay a Giant?!" _

His excitement was infectious, she could not help but smile. " _ Of course, haven't you?" _

" _ No, but I'd like to one day _ !" He was so earnest in his statement.

" _ Well I'm sure you will your highness _ " she smiled at the boy

" _ You can call me Eg _ " the boy stated, before grabbing her hand and pulling her towards his own set of sitting cushions. " _ Please tell me all about it! _ " he pleaded with her.

Vers settled down and tried to remember the story her father had once told her of when he had met a giant. But the boy jumped in with his own questions, " _ Where did you see it? How big was it? Was it a boy giant or a girl giant? What did it want?" _ He was practically bouncing with excitement. She hesitated as she didn't catch everything he had said in his eagerness. She felt Yon settle behind her, his arm stretched out behind her yet allowed her space. It felt cosy next to the fire telling stories with him there. 

_ "I know that part; It tried to eat the fearless Goose."  _ Yon pointed to the fluff ball which was now napping away. The child turned to look at the cat, Vers used the moment to look at Yon, she didn't know enough Rus to tell the story in its entirety. He caught her wide eyes and understood her concern, he leaned in and mentioned softly "He speaks both".

She breathed a sigh of relief and started on her tale. It wasn't long before the boy fell asleep, and Yon lifted him from the cushions to place him in his bed. Goose decided she was going to crawl in with him. Vers guessed she would be back again tomorrow to pick the cat up and finish her tale.

On the way back to their room, Yon began to elaborate about the boy "Elreg was born long after my father had died; the Emperor and Empress had lost their only son and had not expected another. It was a surprise to all when the Empress announced she was once again with child, as it had been 12 years since she had Princess Darya, my youngest aunt. It was considered a miracle, and they were sure it was a boy sent by the Supremor to ease their suffering. They were mostly right, it was a boy, but there was only more suffering as tragedy struck; the Empress was too old to bear another child. She died not long after poor Elreg was born. He never got to know her; I don't think my grandmother even got to hold him. He was whisked away and kept safe from everything and almost everyone. The Emperor wants nothing to happen to his last and only son and won't risk anything.”

"I'm so sorry" she whispered to him and took his hand. He looped her arm in his and placed her hand in the crook of his elbow, holding it still.

"I had the chance of being taken in by my aunt, to grow with Min. Eg doesn't even get to spend that much time with the other children, mostly guards and nursemaids. I try and visit with him when I can. Tell him stories of the outside world. I had hoped with my ascension he would be allowed some more freedom… that does not seem to be the case" Yon drifted off, lost in thought.

"Well... now he has one more visitor; I need someone to practice my Rus with, and I doubt your aunts would enjoy my stories the same way as Eg. Besides, he took my cat hostage." She nudges his arm warmly, trying to belay his worries.

"Your cat has little concern with whom she decides to sleep next to as long as it’s warm. She took herself hostage." he chuckled as he walked beside her.

"No such thing! Besides, she has very discerning taste in people." He quirked his brow at her, but before he could comment about his inclusion in that statement, she jumped back in with a smile "She merely tolerates you out of necessity."

He tried to hide the smile that threatened to break out, but wasn't very successful, he leaned in closer to her speaking low as they passed some guards "Much like her mistress." She smiled and punched him playfully for good measure. 

When they returned to their room, both readied themselves for bed. Vers had enjoyed the evening with Eg. After a while she had forgotten to not think of Yon’s body warming her back, and had just relished in the comfort of his presence. Yon was just as attentive as the young boy had been as she retold the history of the giants. Now she was keenly aware of him, as he slid into bed next to her. With the absence of Goose, who had filled the void in their bed like an impenetrable wall, the void was more noticeable. After he had settled and she was certain he was asleep, she let herself shuffle a little closer to him.

* * *

By now Vers had a reasonable understanding of the layout of the palace complex and how it connected to other areas of the citadel. She'd watched the servants scurry around and had realised that there were far more corridors around her than met the eye. She has yet to map them out but had every intention to.

She made her way through the complex towards the Ladies’ quarter. As she drew closer the sound of giggles and small children echoed down the halls. With each noise she heard, her nerves and anxiety notched higher. She clenched the sides of her dress to calm herself. Whilst the idea had been to spend time with these people,  _ her new family _ , to get to know them and make allies; she did not know where to start.

She avoided the girls in her village, she preferred to fight with the boys or help on the farm or with the fishing boats. Every chance she'd get she was on the water, sailing. That's how she'd met Måria; Måria's father had been the local boat builder, so they lived further away from the village. Vers would go with her own father to deliver supplies, he had been the blacksmith, so would visit often. The moment their fathers sat to drink mead, the pair of young winldlings would scurry away to the most recent boat and imagine sailing distant seas.

Her mother had not been especially maidenly; a warrior herself and a farmer by the trade of her own mother's people. She imparted much to her daughter, before she was taken to Valhalla, none of which could help Vers here. Vers had not been taught many of the ways of women, nor had the desire to learn. She could sew sails or wounds but not dresses with fine needlework. She knew not what to do here. If she could kill a man twice her size, she could surely get through this?

She slowed her pace as she reached the entryway, servants bustled past. She breathed deep and set her shoulders.  _ Chin high, no fear. _ She walked around the corner and surveyed the chamber. Children played in the corner, attended by several wetnurses and a few women whom she assumed were their mothers. A group of younger women were braiding each other’s hair, chatting and giggling away, others were sewing or reading. 

The Princess Yulia sat on a chair on a small raised section of the room. Her own throne in this court of women. She talked and drank with some others, she looked every part a queen, from the way she held herself to her fine embellished clothes.

Vers must have been spotted by one of the giggling girls, as their laughter was the first to die away. The silence swept around the room and Vers found all eyes on her. The Princess Yulia looked from her companions to the intrusion that had broken their peace. Vers hadn't truly expected a warm welcome but had hoped for more than this. The Princess looked annoyed, as if the inconvenience of Vers’ appearance had ruined her day. It was the same look her son perpetually wore, and often graced Minerva's face. Vers wondered if it was an inherited look, or if they learnt it from her?

As if remembering herself the Princess placed a polite smile on her face to greet Vers. Vers noticed the woman refused to stand. "Welcome dear… please sit. What brings you here this morning?". As Vers approached and bowed, a few of the other women moved away, a part of her doubted it was just to be polite and make room. How was she to answer? Yon’s words about being careful still ran through her head. If she were honest about her true intentions, it may reveal too much, so she settled for a half truth. It still tasted bitter on her tongue.

“ _ I found myself idle today and came in search for company.” _ she tried to be as nonchalant as possible.

“ _ Ah, I see you are learning. Good” _ Vers had hoped that would win her some favour. “ _ Narkissa, come.”  _ she called for the attention of a younger woman, she looked the same age as Vers, perhaps a little older. “ _ Princess Vers, this is Narkissa, she is the wife of one of the ministers. I’m sure you could assist her in her tasks for today; she has the honour of completing a  _ _ svad'ba  _ _ blanket as a gift.” _ the woman approached and bowed to the Princess and then to Vers.

“ _ Please Princess, join us.” _ Narkissa requested before shuffling off to her prior task. Vers looked at Yulia, who had an impatient look in her eye, as if she didn't understand why Vers was still standing there when she had been dismissed. Vers realised that any warmth or good will she had been shown in her brief encounters with the Princess were neither genuine nor heartfelt, but only duty bound.

Vers turned and left without any further ceremony, if she offended, she didn’t really care. If the Grand Princess didn't have time to be polite, she didn't have time for protocol. Vers joined a group of 6 women, who were working away at a large white blanket. Each had a section and were slowly embroidering the edges in blue, grey and green. Two girls scooted along and allowed her to sit between them where a blank section of the fabric lay on the floor.

Vers sat and watched them all for a moment before she lifted the blanket off the ground. She looked at the patterns the two girls were completing. She wondered how they knew what to do, when the older of the two leaned in and helped. 

She splayed the section in Vers’ hands out and pointed at the faintest of markings on the fabric “ _ It’s easy, just follow the pattern; leaves in green, stars in grey, the rest in blue for your section.” _ The girl then positioned a few small bowls with thread in between them and passed Vers a new needle. Vers thanked the girl and started to attend to her task. The women continued to talk as if they had not been interrupted by an interloper, and Vers let their conversation wash over her whilst she tried not to ruin the blanket.

It wasn't too long before the girl leaned in again, speaking softly to her, “It’s nice to finally meet you in person; I’m Natasha, and this is my sister Yelena.” The blonde girl to her right simply looked at them coldly when she heard her name mentioned but did not engage further, so Vers gave her attention to the kind one. For sisters they didn’t look alike, the blonde had rounder features whilst Natasha had red hair and more angles.

Vers smiled at the woman politely “I’m Vers, but I guess you already know that?”

“I had heard that,” Natasha joked back. Vers like her already. They talked a little in both Norse and Rus, the sisters were the wards of one of the emissaries from the Bulgars further east. They were here as he had taken a new wife, who apparently wasn't as fond of them as he was. The other women around them talked about many subjects too; their children, their husbands, other relations or town gossip. They criticised those not in ear shot freely, and mercilessly. She noticed Natasha did not engage in this behaviour, nor Yelena, but Vers felt that Yelena just didn't talk to anyone.

Despite the specific task at hand Vers was enjoying herself, she thought to herself that Yon had been concerned for no reason at all. Everything was going to be fine.

* * *

Hours later and she was still seething. She had requested a bath in the hopes that the warm water would soothe her muscles and her anger. Yet, as she sat in the bath, with the soft scent of lavender rising from the water, all she seemed to do was stew.

Vers had her blade in her hand, mindlessly twisting it into the wood of the bath. Its presence soothed her. Her hand had itched for it all afternoon.

If she was in her own lands, she could have challenged that woman and slit her throat for such an insult. Here, any violence would work against her and she would likely be cast out as a traitor. Not to mention she doubted the _Grand_ _Prince_ would want his new wife exiled for treason for murdering a member of his family, even if he did warn her against them.

"Careful you don't poke a hole in the side and leak out everywhere." She stiffened at the realisation there was an intruder and she had not noticed. She cursed herself. She had become too complacent with this place, assuming their fancy clothes and mild manners meant there was no threat. She heard Yon approach the tub, she saw in her peripheral he intended to take the blade from her. She knew it was out of concern, not a threat, nor a need to strategically disarm her.

She wouldn't let him; she stabbed the top of the tub for emphasis "Don't!" He splayed his fingers in a sign of surrender and retracted his hand. Instead he sat, back against the tub and faced away from her, giving her privacy. Instinctively she still sank lower into the water. 

"Anger only serves the enemy." He offered; she didn't need a lecture. 

"I'm not heartless like you and the rest of your family, I can't help but feel what I feel and react to it." She was tempted to poke him in the side of the head with her blade, when she realised that a man who was cautious of everyone, had turned his back on a killer with a knife. It seemed the role of trusting fool had shifted.

He turned to look at her, a frown marring his face "You think me heartless?" He asked with soft concern. She contemplated him for a moment, she knew it wasn't true, there were many things she did not know of him, but heartless he was not. She was angry, she wanted to lash out and lay her ire at his feet, but he did not deserve that ".... if you were heartless, you would have left me to them from the beginning."

As he looked at her, she felt some of the anger seep from her bones. She began to feel hollow, knowing he was right in his decision to distract her from them. They sat in silence for a few moments before he stood and bought her some wine and a robe.

"Come… tell me about it over dinner."

She took the wine from him but eyed the robe. He'd seen her naked before, mostly, yet it still made her stomach twist with nerves of it happening again. She supposed it was inevitable, they lived together in close quarters, she in turn has seen him without clothes. She had been surprised he had not pushed for his rights as a husband, it had been weeks since their wedding night, and whilst they had played a cat and mouse game of seduction, it never eventuated further. It was as if the familiarity growing between them had blanketed any desires, at least on his behalf.

He held out the robe for her, opened wide and inviting before politely averting his gaze. She drank deeply from the cup and then stood from the water. She stepped over the edge of the tub and drew the robe on. She waited for him to take the liberty of a stolen caress or kiss, as he did on their wedding night, but he simply left her to change. Once she had dried herself and changed into a warmer dress, she came to join him at his desk, where their nightly meal had been laid out amongst scrolls and other items he must have bought with him from his day.

She poured herself another cup of wine and started on a small bowl of stew. Yon’s attention was between the food and the parchments in front of him. Occasionally he would look up to check on her, to see if she was ready to talk; whilst she simply studied him in silence, sulking in her chair. When he was done, he shuffled the papers and placed them to the side. He then turned to her, giving her his full attention. She sighed and contemplated just going to bed. She did not want to hear that he’d been right in any way.

“I know you would have heard by now.” she mumbled into her drink. He nodded silently, answering her question, yet still wanting her to continue to tell him her version of events. She huffed, she didn't want to, but who else could she confide in? Didn’t today prove that he was her only ally in this damned place? It felt like even her gods had forsaken her. Then the thought occurred to her, if he knew, was she to be punished?

“I will not apologise.” she stated flatly, no matter what punishment came her way, she refused to curtail to those women.

“Good.” was his only response. One she hadn't expected. She inspected his features to see if he was jesting - he wasn't. That warmed her. She remained silent; she could think of no words which made her not feel like a child telling on another. When it appeared, she would not continue on her own, Yon gently prompted her.

"Warrior or not, you don't strike me as the type of person whose nature it is to threaten people unprovoked. What happened?"

"What were you told?" She quietly enquired, no doubt a perverse version of the truth.

"In some violent, heathen, rage, 'befitting of your background', you insulted then attacked one of the ministers' wives - unprovoked. So, what did she say to provoke you?"

"Nothing that it isn't true in the end I suppose." All the rage and anger had seeped out of her. She felt deflated, defeated. In the harsh light of truth, most of what was said was fact. Yet it had not made it hurt any less. "That I am unworthy of my title. That I am merely a bought bride no better than a slave. That my heathen gods do not truly exist, and I am nothing more than a delusional, backwater, inbred goat herder, and the only reason you tolerate me is you have no choice. They pity you for being bound to me. They hope that I bare you no children, so you'll be rid of me sooner." She hadn't realised her voice had gradually become barely a mumble, with each confession. "They seemed to not care that I had no choice either; as if this whole situation was my fault, my doing."

Yon had moved to the edge of his seat and placed a comforting hand on her knee. She kept her eyes on her wine, she didn't want to see the pity in his own.

"You are right, they are heartless." He stroked her knee with his thumb, a caring gesture of solidarity. What was said may be true, but he clearly didn't just tolerate her. That thought brought her comfort. "How did you react to that? From what we were told you violently attacked her. I didn't believe it at first, but the blade in the bathtub gives me pause."

"Am I to be punished?" With a tale such as that, she was certain a punishment was to be given, whether it was the truth or not. Why would they believe her?

"Depends on your version of events" she was at least being given the right to defend herself, no doubt this was his doing. The absurdity of their lies riled her again and she couldn't hold in her bitter annoyance.

"Then Yes, I did violently attack her! Flipping her cup and making her spill wine on her own face is as violent as those witches are used to. Lock me up and throw away the key, I'm clearly a public menace." Vers held her wrists out to him in mock subjugation. 

He went from concerned to smiling at her. He sat back on his seat clearly relieved at the truth behind the events, he started to pick at his dinner once more, alleviated from the burden of punishing his wayward wife. She settled into her chair, vindicated in herself as he clearly believed her and didn't seem to protest her actions.

"I knew you were a feisty one from the moment I first saw you." Was his only comment.

"What? Spying on a party in the hall? If that's what you call feisty then clearly the women here must be more boring than a mountain goat."

He chuckled at her comment before regarding her across the table, a piece of fruit poised in front of his lips.

He cocked his head "You really don't remember me, do you?"

She looked at him confused. "Despite your family's clear opinion, I'm not a fool, I don’t forget things from one moment to the next. I’m certain I know who my husband is."

He tried to suppress the laugh that threatened to break through.

"Let me tell you a story; when my great great grandfather built this Empire, it was done so despite the sword which hung over his head. It was prophesied by the oracle Volkhvs that Oleg, my great great grandfather, would take his death from his stallion. It was a beautiful beast, and he was reluctant to part with it, but as he feared it too much to ride it, he sent it away to be cared for and live out of his sight. 

Many years later when he was more than a Grand Prince but an Emperor, he asked after the horse, and was told that it had passed years prior. Emboldened by the fact he had outlived his steed, he visited it one last time and kicked its skull in a final act of defiance against the fates. In doing so he awoke a snake which lived inside, and in turn, it bit him on the foot and killed him.

Despite our love for our God, my family still holds the prophecies of the oracle in high regard. We often seek its council. Before I left for the western raids, I sought out the oracle, wanting to know my fate and that of the men I would lead. The Oracle told me that not only would I find glory but riches beyond worth there; A shining jewel who would become my wife and take my heart, yet without her, I would meet my end.

I was interested in glory, not love. I wanted to prove myself as a warrior and fight for my people. Yet I knew to heed the oracle's words. Battles came, ale flowed, and many women were to be had, but none a shining jewel. As we marched on the Saxons, I hoped my prize might be a princess. It mattered not that she was Saxon or Norman, the thought of a foreign princess warming my bed was appealing. The battles came and went, the summer raids finished and yet I never returned with a wife. 

Unlike my great great grandfather, I did not ignore the words of the oracle and know from his experience that the words spoken could have two meanings. I have been concerned since then, that as I had no wife, I would meet my end and could at any moment. So, when the council stipulated that aid to your people must come at the price of a wife, one I did not win at the raid, I was reluctant to agree.

They were aware of my reservations and the reasons behind them, so they requested she be a warrior to alleviate my concern. I was not convinced, but could not disagree, yet I still felt such action might invoke poor luck and fulfil the prophecy.

When we arrived in Skūlløs, I did not correct Earl Tåløs when he assumed Ronan was me. Ronan is a prince of the royal household, so no insult could be taken from hosting the wrong man. I felt it was better for my protection, and perhaps less likely to upset whatever powers were behind the prophecy."

Vers listened to his story, she knew the gods worked in mysterious ways and that the words of oracles should never be ignored nor could ever be taken at face value. She could understand his concerns that his prophecy had not been fulfilled, and whilst it explained his reservations and behaviour, it made her feel worse.

It seemed that this was a mutually dissatisfying situation; they were both being forced into something they didn't want. He was holding out for a woman he had never met, and she was merely the poor substitute. 

As enlightening as his story was, she could not understand what it had to do with her apparent loss of memory.

"But what does that have to do with me not remembering you?"

He smiled a tender smile at her, chasing away some of the disappointment she felt.

"The night before the battle of Cynwit, I was sitting with some of my men when a fight broke out; this Spitfire of a girl came running out of nowhere and tackled a man who had joined our party to the ground. We tried to separate them, but she was a fierce thing, clawing and punching, biting too. I eventually managed to drag her off him, but not without receiving an elbow to the face and a bite mark for my troubles. 

She accused the man of stealing her shield; it had belonged to her father who had died the winter just past. It was a beautiful thing; I could see why he coveted it. It was bright red not like the colour of blood but like a ruby, the star in its centre was meticulously shined so it glistened in the light. It was far too precious to belong to a man who couldn't even cut his beard straight. I returned her shield to her and she scurried away without a second glance. I don't think she even said thank you.

I looked for that shield on the battlefield the next day. A girl who could unreservedly tackle a man twice her size with ease would be a sight to behold in the heat of battle.

I noticed her late in the melee, the second wave of warriors were engaging with the Saxons. It was utter chaos. Once again, she was taking on a man twice her size, wielding a battle axe. She was holding her own easily until she slipped in the mud and the man's axe embedded in her shield. She cut him down, but the shield seemed stuck. The foolish girl refused to leave it; she never saw the man she'd attacked the night before approaching her. He seemed intent to take revenge for her slight, I took the bow from the closest archer I could find and shot him where he stood."

Vers blood ran cold, she had never realised that the man who had almost killed her had been the same one who had stolen her shield the day prior. She couldn't even remember what he looked like. Only his shadow, the sword raised above his head, then there was an arrow sticking out of his eye. She had been so enraged that the shield her father had made for her had been stolen, she barely remembered the original fight. Her sole focus was to kill the rat who had taken it and claim it back. She'd lashed out at everyone who had tried to stop her and had snatched it back from whoever had presented it to her after she reclaimed it and then stormed off. She definitely didn't remember who it was and knows she never thanked them. Now it seems she had found the man who saved her life, and her shield after all this time.

He had leaned forward during the telling of his tale, and she, in turn, had also without realising.

"I never saw her after that, she disappeared from my life as quickly as she had come crashing in. I had caught stories over the years, but we never crossed paths again. I never knew where she had come from or which tribe she had belonged to. So, imagine my surprise when I found her sneaking around in the dark of a great hall on a _reconnaissance_ _mission_?"

She sat in silence just looking at him, trying to place him in her memories of that time. She felt sheepish, she was indebted to her husband for her life twice over. She thought back, trying to remember if what he said was true. "You had a beard…"

"Yes," he breathed, hoping she would remember him. She had left such an impression on him, it hurt to think he was so unremarkable to her.

She reached out and traced his forearm where she vaguely recalled biting him. He turned his arm allowing her fingers to slowly caress the softer skin near his wrist. The sensation sent little shocks of lightning through both of them. 

"I'm sorry," she said it so quietly he almost didn't hear her, her voice sounded distant as if she was elsewhere. He bought his other hand up to halt her fingers from tracing more patterns up his arm. 

"Don't be." He took her hand in his. She looked up from her focus on his arm, they stared into each other's eyes reminiscing on their first moments together; she had been violent, heated, and rude, he had calm and helping; in control - a leader.

"Thank you." Fell from her lips, she didn't clarify for what; for returning her shield, for saving her life, for believing her story, just thank you. His eyes drifted to her lips and he leaned in, she realised she was doing the same. She closed the distance between them, her lips softly brushing his, tentatively. His free hand came up to caress her cheek and he deepened the kiss. 

She shifted herself forward and settled on his lap. She heard him growl as his hands came up to her hips. He swept one hand up her back before his fingers began to knead her skin through her dress. She rolled her hips into him, stifling a moan of her own as the leather from his britches pressed against her core.

She broke the kiss to look down on him. Her fingers trail over his face, taking in the details. He let her as he lost himself in her gentle touch. Her fingers trailed his jaw before tracing his lips.

"I think I preferred you with the beard" she mentioned to him. She thought back to what he had looked like then, he was handsome either way, but the beard made him look rougher, not the refined, controlled man she'd spent the last few weeks beginning to know.

"Oh really?" He smiled at her and captured her finger between his teeth. 

Vers smiled back. "Yes" she whispered as she descended again. Yon rose to meet her, a groan escaping him when their lips met. His hands pulled her further into him, before he wrapped them around her and lifted her. She braced herself on his shoulders and locked her legs around his waist. She kissed him along his jaw as he walked them to the bed, he hissed and growled when she bit his ear. He not so gently laid her down on top of the furs and captured her lips roughly. Good, she wanted rough, she wanted to chase the hurt away and fill the holes her anger had hollowed out. She would prove with her skin and body that she was wanted, not tolerated.

Yon kissed his way down her neck, she clawed at his back as he left a love bite on her skin. She closed her eyes, relishing the sensation. He made his way down her body, loosening her dress as he went to taste more of her golden skin. She lay back and let him be, trying to concentrate on the feeling of him against her; hoping each kiss would seep through and fill the void which had been opened. As he drew closer to her juncture, she grew impatient; when he arrived, he paused, causing her frustrations to grow. She just wanted to forget, to be forced into oblivion, and he was the quickest way to do so. She opened her eyes and glared at him, he was simply watching her when he then sighed in defeat, whispering, “ _ You’re not ready _ ”.

She growled in annoyance, “ _ I feel plenty ready _ ” she rubbed her thighs together before parting them to cradle his body. 

“You may be ready here” He leaned down and kissed her dress above the curls of her mound before he made his way upward. She glared at him; he was going the wrong way. He hovered over her, then kissed her forehead “You only think you’re ready here.” He then moved over her heart and kissed the exposed skin tenderly “but you’re not ready here.” She thought she heard him sigh as he stood from the bed, she tried to grab him to stop him, but he avoided her grasp. She was far too aroused to let him just stop. Who cares if her heart wasn't in it? She wanted this now! She sat on the edge of the bed and watched him slowly leave. 

She sighed to herself, she was at a loss at what to do. This time she was willing, and she still managed to chase him away. With an irritated groan, she threw herself back on the bed and stared at the ceiling until Goose, who had somehow made her way back, came into view wanting some affection too. Vers reached out and grappled the cat to her chest. She supposed it was better than nothing.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens - drama is afoot.

It took far more strength then he knew he had to walk away from her. He knew he was doomed when he saw her in the tub, droplets glistening on her skin, her shoulders gently curving down and disappearing into the water. Yon prided himself on his strength and fortitude, his ability to curb his desires and hon his body into a weapon for his empire, yet he was still a man made of flesh and blood. He had sensed she was less interested in being present for their first bonding, she had felt the sting of rejection from the day and wanted to be soothed. He understood the feeling and wanted to reciprocate, yet once they had crossed that line there was no going back. He would not let a lifetime of experiences be tainted by setting the tone with a mindless melding of bodies to chase away fear. It would devalue anything he hoped they could have in the future.

He slowly walked the halls until he calmed his arousal. Whilst it had been hard not to ravage her, perhaps what faced him next was harder still. He now needed to convince the other ministers of her innocence. When Lady Marsha, the wife of the finance minister, had accosted a small group of them after holding council, recounting the tale of the crazed vulgar princess who attacked her daughter, all others were immediate to believe the women. All also knew she was a common gossip who had on more than one occasion exaggerated events into her favour. For an empire so vast and so mixed, he was surprised how fast they judged someone they considered an ‘outsider’. He needed to speak with his Aunt Yulia, she always maintained a cool head in such circumstances. He hoped that she could corroborate Vers’ version of the situation. 

He believed Vers entirely, yet without support, the sensationalised version was more likely to persist. He could make it disappear easily enough, have her avoid punishment beyond prayer and reflection with the priests of the Supremor, but she would hold the reputation which would damage further relations. He needed to learn to work with these people, their professional relationships were already strained from the embargoes placed on him and his ascendency. He had a lot of damage to repair; which indifference would not help with. His grandfather held a power over them he knew he did not, and his ascension to the position of Emperor would not automatically ensure their behaviour nor obedience. 

He had hoped, for her sake, her endeavour to befriend some of the other women would be successful. He had not realised that she yearned for camaraderie. He had hoped that Minerva and she would bond; they were both strong-willed and fierce women, forging a warrior’s path in the world of men. He, however, had not considered the misunderstanding of his relationship with Min or Vers’ subsequent jealousy. In hindsight, he understood Vers' assumption, whilst Min was obedient in all professional matters, he did give her more leeway for familial topics. He saw where his lapse in protocol could have been misconstrued as a more intimate personal relationship, however, he did not understand why that needed to impact the interactions between the two women.

Regardless, it did. He had also hoped that the affection his aunt held for him would incline her towards Vers. He did not understand why there was such a rift between these women. Did they not see what he did? Vers was kind, warm and witty. Fiercely intelligent, not to mention brave, despite her headstrong willingness to throw herself into situations which would not end well for her, she somehow managed to come out fine. 

He loved his Aunt; she was his second mother. Taking him in, even in her own grief. Raising him to be stronger than the pain, braver than the rest, that the Empire and the family were paramount. She had encouraged him and Ronan to pursue their respective father's military careers and positions to great success. He owed her so much, she had shaped the man he had become.

She may not have been as warm as his own mother had been, but she showed her love in other ways; her sage wisdom, harsh but true life-lessons, sharing her strengths to galvanise her children against the harsh realities of the world. In all fairness it was his mother's heart which had been her greatest weakness; she was so consumed by grief, she died of a broken heart, abandoning him in the process. His aunt had called her foolish, and he was inclined to agree. He had sworn he would never give his heart to anyone as completely as she had given hers’ to his father. He would never allow such a weakness to consume him, even when he was told of his fate, of his unknown bride, he vowed that he would not fall to the mercy of whomever she may be. She was a necessity, a tool to ensure his success. However, he felt that oath slipping further out of his grasp every day.

He approached the Princess' rooms and requested a nearby maid to ask her mistress for an audience. She returned and led him to the Princess' antechamber where she waited for him. "Dearest Aunt" he greeted the Princess, bowing and kissing her on the cheek.

"Yon, my dear… what brings you to my door so late?" She inquired as to if she were truly perplexed by his appearance. Her ability to feign ignorance to draw out the truth and manipulate a situation in her favour was unparalleled - a lifetime of living at the whims of the politics around her. He would not fall for her trap. He had learnt well from her.

"I think you know why... I've heard there was an incident today, words were said, and certain actions led to offences. There is an outstanding question to the truth of what happened. I was hoping you could shed some light on the matter."

"Hmmm... yes, it was quite unfortunate. Yet these things happen." she evaded in true style

"What did happen?" he nudged knowing this wasn’t going to be easy.

"Your wife had an altercation with one of the younger girls, your cousin. It's my understanding certain unkind things were said, but that rash girl took too harshly to them. It’s her own fault, for a Viking I'd assumed she would have thicker skin."

He didn't fail to notice how she avoided the plain truth of the event. He suppressed a sigh.

"I need to know the precise details of the altercation. Vers is being accused of… uncharacteristic behaviour, in my opinion." Yon tried to coax the truth from her. His Aunt swivelled in her chair, latching on to what he said and studying him diligently.

"How well do you really know her character?" Whilst she raised an excellent question, Yon felt the overwhelming urge to defend Vers at all costs. He reigned himself in, there were always two sides and he needed to tread lightly to not seem to be favouring Vers. He chose his words carefully.

"Enough to know that she doesn't live up to Lady Marsha's exaggerations." Dubiously satisfied with the answer, the Princess seemed swayed to be more lenient towards Vers in her rendition of events.

"Well one must always forgive those their trespasses, and goodness knows Marsha is one to embellish her stories. Regardless, the behaviour shown was not of such befitting a member of this household. I trust I will not have to witness it again in the future?"  _ Ah! _ Here was the outcome he had foolishly hoped would be unnecessary, yet disappointingly true to form. 

A bargain; her shift of the situation in her favour; to seek the information he needed, he would need to pay a price, and that price was Vers’ obedience to him and more importantly to her. She wanted to cement her power and position in the family. Vers was a threat, one which would only be eliminated through subjugation. He had feared this may happen.

"I cannot make promises for things I have no control over. But I shall talk to her." there would be no taming Vers, he knew. He wasn’t sure he wanted to; he wanted to make her stronger, a better warrior, but he didn’t want her to lose her spark, it was what he found most intriguing about her. It was what drew him to her all those years ago, and even now. He knew she  _ obeyed _ his instructions out of necessity, there were few other options. Vers came to Hæla as the alternative was the starvation of the girl she helped mother. Vers listened to him as she realised that strategically it was her best option, not out of loyalty or true obedience. He hoped that would change, but he was not so foolish.

“You forget your place! You are her Grand Prince and sovereign, not only her husband. Obedience to you is paramount, more so than the obedience to the Supremor. You will be his embodiment here on earth. She should hold you in fear and awe above all else, it would do her good to be reminded of such. Charm is deceptive and beauty is fleeting, but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.”

“Your wisdom and virtuousness are unsurpassable. Were she only to be a shadow of your image, I would be so lucky.” he flattered her, hoping to win favour.

“Nonsense.” she waved off his praise as if she didn't revel in his every word. “Now tell me, why did she send you on this errand?”

“She did not, I came in an attempt to remedy this situation as swiftly as possible.”

“Yet, the remedy does not involve you, my dear.” her tone reminded him of how she talked to him as a boy, it made him uncomfortable.

“She is my wife, my responsibility! Is it not my problem to solve?” he enquired cautiously.

"No, it was hers.” she told him bluntly.

This had been a test. Yon realised now, and they had both failed. His aunt had not stopped the gossip, nor the hysterical Lady Marsha from running to her husband. She had wanted Vers to come begging for assistance, not him seeking her help. It seems he was a fool; he had fallen into the very trap he had warned Vers to be wary of.

“Well you told me yourself; if you want something done right, trust only yourself to do it.” He tried to recover from his slip, it didn't work.

The Princess leaned forward and clasped him by the chin. She looked deeply into each of his eyes, searching his soul for something - weakness no doubt. 

“Be careful dear one, you may have your mother’s eyes, but you also have her heart. Don’t be a fool and make the same mistake she did. I raised you smarter than that. Guard your heart; emotions are a distraction and they only work to serve your enemy.” she warned him gravely. A reminder she felt he deserved.

“Always,” he assured her.

After a moment, she sat back again, seemingly appeased. She reached for a pot of some lotion. She was starting her abolitions for bed; it was her sign of dismissing him. She would do the same when they were children, she would chastise them for their behaviour before bed and then return to her own preparations, as if their nonsense was no longer worth her time. 

“Well then, I suggest you also teach your new wife not to waste good wine.” she commented with seeming disinterest. It was all she would give him. He understood, Vers was in the right, but her redemption would take more.

* * *

After talking with his aunt, Yon had walked from the Palace and stood on the sea wall. He needed to think, to re-evaluate his decisions from the day and their consequences.

The night was calm, compared to his thoughts, yet the chilling air cut through him, giving him a clarity, the warmth of the palace had smothered.

With arms perched on the edge of the balustrade, he stared out at the water.

"Oh, I know that look!" a voice rang out as it approached. He looked to his right and watched as Minerva emerged from the shadows, joining him in his reverie.

"What look?" He asked sourly, he neither wanted nor needed company. He wanted to be alone with his thoughts. 

"The look you get when you know you've done something stupid."  _ Here we go, like mother like daughter _ , another lecture he did not need.

"May I remind you; you are talking to your commanding officer? Not to mention your Grand Prince. I should have you whipped for insubordination." He parroted back her mother's averment. How easily it fell from his lips to Minerva yet wouldn't for Vers.

As if sensing his agitation, she tried to reassure him "I would follow you to the ends of the earth, you know that. And if you so ordered, I would throw myself over the edge. I wouldn't even do that for my  _ actual _ brother." It's true, she wouldn't. After a few moments of silence, she cut to the heart of it "Is this about blondie and the wine incident?" She enquired not too tactfully.

"How did you hear about that?" He asked, trying to hide the exhaustion he felt from creeping into his voice. The speed of which gossip spread like wildfire through the court always astounded him. However, he didn't fail to note that unlike the original recount, this one had mentioned the previous missing key element.

"Unlike you or my brother, I actually sleep with most of the female servants and a few courtiers. Whilst none of them will admit it openly, there are a few that were quite impressed with her. I think they've secretly wanted to pour wine over Manya for years… goodness knows I have." Minerva slyly confessed.

He snickered at her confession. He had oftentimes thought Minerva should have been born a man, she was better suited to it, yet then again, he felt he would not take her as seriously if she had been.

She had been his confidante since childhood, and more often than not she provided him with insights which only a woman could, whenever he needed them most. A gift she inherited from her mother, yet sparingly used.

"Lady Marsha's rendition of the story claims Vers viciously attacked Manya, leaving her scarred for life. I asked your mother about what happened. To get a clearer picture of events and corroborate Vers' innocence."

"What did that cost you?" She enquired. It seemed Minerva understood what he clearly failed to expect. He sighed loudly, further wallowing in his folly and the challenge which faced him come morning.

"Vers' obedience." He quietly admitted

Minerva barked a single mirthless laugh "She won't like that!"

"No, she won't." He knew not how to approach the subject with her, or more appropriately how to handle the reaction when he did. He hoped that today may have assisted in her believing him, and the importance of his guidance in this world.

He didn’t want to isolate her; he didn't like the idea of her being alone here. Yet she was too headstrong, too different from the women of the court to truly be a part of them. He knew an incident like this would occur, he just never realised it would happen so soon.

"What else?" Minerva asked him suddenly, breaking the silence that had fallen over them.

"Nothing, just a chastising."  _ Thankfully _ , he thought to himself.

"I meant what else did you do to be wearing that look? That's not a reaction our mother would normally invoke." She pressed. Not in its entirety, no. But she had spotted his foolishness. He had no wish to discuss it further, yet Minerva would not leave it be.

Minerva continued to scrutinise him, as if she could read the thoughts swirling around his head if she stared long enough. He shifted uncomfortably under her gaze.

"Have you talked to Blondie yet about it?" She tried another avenue, ever persistent.

"Not about the conditions, but about the event, yes." He hoped that would suffice Min's curiosity for the moment, let her assume what she will but leave him be. Yet it seemed, somehow, to fill in the missing piece for her. 

There was a reason she was his second in the StarKree, her intellect was as sharp as the blades she wielded. He never would have jumped to the conclusion she did. Perhaps her scrutiny had allowed her to see into his brain?

"You told Blondie of that stupid prophecy, didn't you?" She asked in disbelief. 

He tried to suppress his sigh. For a few moments he considered ignoring her question, or even lying. But what was the point in the end? Normally he prided himself in his honesty, or he had up until the misunderstanding in Skūlløs. 

He had never considered telling the girl the reason behind his reluctance for why he had not relieved her of her insecurities sooner. He was content with her believing it was a simple mistake which he had played along with. 

That was all he intended on revealing to her the night in the tent and the next morn. He had disliked seeing her so distressed over those days, it was a stark contrast to the fiery girl he had first met, and even had glimpsed in the Skūlløsian hall. He had wanted to distance himself, so he tried not to care. Yet she had continued to seek him out.

In those moments, she wasn't just containing herself out of pride, she was genuine and wild. The more comfortable she had grown around him, both before and after the wedding, the more of that wild girl he saw. He couldn’t bring himself to let her languish in the proverbial dark again.

"I'd hoped to explain to her the context behind why she was here; why I hadn't taken a bride, why certain true yet cruel things were said to her and will continue to be repeated for some time." he informed her somberly.

"Why does it matter?" She snorted indignantly. She clearly felt that it was Vers' place to remain in the dark or simply just do as she was told. 

_ Because I care more than I should.  _ "She deserved to know. I wasn't very truthful during our journey here. I left her to believe that it was Ronan she was to wed. I did so in an attempt to distance myself. Now she doesn't trust me, she wouldn't have felt the need to associate with the other women if she didn't feel isolated; she feels isolated because I am the only person she has here, and I haven't been forthcoming with her. She's jumping to the wrong conclusions, and with her headstrong nature, it will only make things worse… She thought you and I were lovers.” Perhaps the absurdity of that statement would convince her of his reasoning?

Minerva regarded him coolly, "You should be so lucky." He chuckled at that; he needed the laugh more than he realised.

“What in his Supreme Intelligence made her think that?” Minerva asked perplexed. He could understand the confusion, it had not occurred to him either until he was forced to reflect on the appearance of the situation.

“How was she to know otherwise? I keep forgetting she has no memories in this place, she’s a blank slate for our culture and our history. She was not to know we are related; you no longer attend Palace events; I introduced you to her in an official capacity, not a familial one. How was she to know the liberties you are given weren't due to a more intimate relationship?” he eyed her, hoping she understood.

She nodded her head in concession to his point. “That’s not the only reason you told her though...” she let her words hang in the air. He sensed that what she said was more a statement than a question. One he refused to acknowledge with anything other than silence. “You and your taste for problematic women…” she continued when he would not.

“Woman… it seems” he knew in his gut he was inviting a degree of scrutiny he didn't need, but this evening seemed to be the night for confessions.

That comment threw Minerva; she rarely showed her true reactions, yet this caused her to physically double take. Under different circumstances, Yon would have enjoyed the humorous expression on her face. “What? How? Wait… she can’t be that girl? The one that bit you then got away? The one you’ve been obsessing over every chance you hear a story from the west?” 

He knew he’d regret mentioning it “She didn’t get away, I never pursued her. And a mild curiosity over a fellow warriors’ success is hardly what I would call ‘obsessing’. You’ve seen her in training, imagine her on the field and tell me you wouldn't have continued to take a passing interest in her? How else are legends made if not by stories?” he tried to defend himself, if not a little too aggressively for the situation.

“Mm-hmm” was all her response to his reaction for his previous interest in the mystery girl from Cynwit.

“I can still have you whipped” he warned, with very little seriousness.

“You can try” she dismissed his threat for what it was - hollow. “Did she remember you? She didn't seem as similarly impressed.”

“Not at first” What had been disheartening is that she had not remembered him as clearly as he had in return. Although she seemed to recall him when prompted enough. His confession had touched her, that much he knew was true. In the moment she had let her guard down, had let him in and thanked him for saving her life. He could still taste her in his mouth. His reverie was broken by a soft chuckling next to him.

“Well I guess the oracle was right - you are doomed.”

* * *

It was hours later when he eventually crawled back into bed. Vers was curled up in the centre, cuddling goose. He didn't disturb her and simply slid in beside her. He was not asleep long before he was woken by the sudden appearance of servants, their distress was palpable. His presence was requested immediately, his Grandfather had fallen to a fever. Yon rushed to the chambers, where his aunt, Ronan, and the Chancellor of State were already waiting with the healers, priests, and the Patriarch of the temple. The Emperor looked stricken; pale and gaunt. Sweat beaded on his brow, his raspy breaths catching in his chest. The man lifted his hand from the bed as much as he could, and beckoned Yon forward. Yon came to kneel by the edge of the bed.

“Don't worry boy, I'm not dead yet. This will pass, so don't get too comfortable in my chair” his grandfather managed to say between the wheezing of his breath. Yon had always marvelled at the man’s stubbornness.

“I would never dream of it, my Emperor” he assured his grandfather. The old man smiled; he knew all was in jest. “Sleep Grandfather!” Yon requested, squeezing the man’s hand as tightly as he dared. The Emperor had never seemed fragile to him, aging yes, that was inevitable but never fragile. Yet in this moment, Yon was overcome with that exact sense. Was it the fragility of the Emperor or the Empire itself? Perhaps the Supremor was sending him a warning?

The Emperor tried to clear his throat to speak louder, which resulted in a coughing fit. His aunt rushed forward, dislodging Yon whilst offering her father water. Once the coughing subsided, his breathing seemed worse. It was a sickly, wet rattling in the man’s chest. Yon felt his skin crawl at the implications of such a quick change in his health. Yet the man persevered “The Grand Prince will speak with my authority in my absence. Listen well to him.” 

Yon looked to the men in the room including Ronan, all nodded in acquiescence of the Emperor’s demand. Yon excused his presence from the room, and the others followed.

As they walked the halls to the council chambers, the Patriarch requested his leave for an opportunity to pray for the health of the Emperor. Yon knew he would be expected to join him and soon, they all would, however political matters needed to come first. He granted the man leave and was then disappointed when Ronan requested the same. He had hoped his cousin would remain by his side, a show of solidarity, when they informed the council of the events at hand. Whilst inopportune, denying such a devout man the chance to pray would do more damage than good. He watched as both men proceeded down the hall to the Temple of the Supremor. The feeling which had haunted Yon since he touched his grandfather’s hand deepened.

As they grew closer to the council chambers, he could hear the commotion from inside. Raised disgruntled voices could be heard; cries of  _ “What do we do now?” _ and  _ “This is a disaster” _ drifted towards Yon and battered against him. Did they really hold him in such little regard? He knew the idea of his ascension had been met with resistance, yet he had thought it was merely the ambition of others which had driven their disquiet, not a genuine concern for his leadership abilities. He commanded tens-of-thousands of men successfully to victory for almost a decade, how could they question his ability so easily?

Yon grew angry, even as the words of his aunt filtered through his head, the mantra he had lived his life by,  _ Anger only serves the enemy, emotions are a distraction _ , he could not help it. He burst into the council chambers, with barely contained rage at these men, expecting them to quieten and cower behind their masks and silence at his appearance. Yet they did not, all turned, and the chaos of the room seemed to direct towards him, like a wave. If he was not careful, it would knock him down and drown him.

He was barely a few feet in the door before he was bombarded with questions and opinions “Is it true?”, “How shall we react?”, “What did the Emperor say?”, “We cannot let this go any further!”

“ Enough!” Demanded Yon over the crowd. They parted as he walked towards the throne to take his place. As they did so he noticed Bronn and Minerva standing at the base of the throne. Bronn was holding onto a man who could barely stand. He was covered in dirt, soot, and dried blood. He looked exhausted, if not near death. A messenger, who must have ridden hard for days to deliver his news. Yon looked to both his Commanders, they looked stricken as the rest of the room. Whatever had everyone so upset must have been this poor man's message and not the news of the Emperor’s failing health. Whatever he had come to say, it was not good. “Speak!” he demanded as his own stomach dropped.

“The Thanosians have attacked Xandar. The Capital has fallen!”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yon's day gets worse and Vers goes on an adventure

If this was to be his first test, it was indeed a trial by fire. Yon wondered briefly what he had done to upset the Supremor for Him to test him in such a way.

The Xandarians were a great empire, stretching around the Mediterranean in the old vestiges of the East Roman empire. They held the gateway to Asia Minor and from there the African continent, and alongside the RusKree, they were the gatekeepers of Europe. 

Despite accolades to the contrary, in this matter the Xandarians were far more important for the protection of Europe. Yon wasn't foolish; he had studied the great empires and Generals which had come before him. 

Every empire who possessed that land, the straight of the Bosphorus, had been near unstoppable; Xerxes, the Romans, and even Alexander the Great could never have expanded so easily without it. It controlled the migration from Asia to Europe and trade between the Black sea, and the Mediterranean. The Xandarians had been in control and had been kept in check by strong adversaries on all sides. With the Xandarian capital Constantinople, now in the hands of Thanos and his men, the European arm of the Byxandarian empire would need Kree support to avoid further incursions.

Without it, nothing could stop the Thanosians sweeping across Europe and bringing with them chaos and herrecy.

What misfortune had befallen them? 

As the weight of the situation settled on him, questions began to rise in his mind. Far more pertinent than the wails of woe he had heard from the ministers. He needed more facts. 

How could Thanos and his men get so far into the heartland of Xandar without anyone's knowledge? Surely spies on both sides would have warned them of an army on the move. In fact, he had been assured in the latest war council that Thanos’ numbers had shrunk, and remained in the Emirates to the south on the horn or Arabia.

"Tell me what happened, every detail." He demanded of the man before him.

Again the caucus cried with questions, Yon silenced them with a raised hand.

"I'm not sure my Prince, we woke to the warning bells, and found people fighting in the streets. The docks in the Golden Horn were on fire, we saw the flames from around the city. They… they killed everyone, men, women, children; anyone in their path as they made their way to the Hagia Sofia and the palace. The men I saw wore Thanosian markings, some even painted these on the doors of houses with the blood of those they'd killed. We don't know where they came from, it was as if they had appeared out of nowhere." The messenger retold his sorry, his voice trembled with the sorrow of what he had witnessed.

Yon felt for the man, but grew impatient. "Armies don't appear out of nowhere, the walls of Constantinople were built to withstand any siege. Were you under siege? Did the gates or the wall fall?" 

"No my prince, the gates were closed. We were honouring the mourning of Constantine the Great, no one was allowed to enter or leave the city."

Yon began to pace as he listened to the informant. This was troubling news. "No siege?" he questioned once more.

"No my Prince." confirmed the man.

"And you were only attacked from the inside? No enemy fleet had entered the Horn?" Scenarios were spinning in Yon’s head. He had visited the city once as a boy with his father. They were on a diplomatic mission of peace, but his father had told him their visit had a dual purpose. 

_ You should always know where and how your friends live. If they need defending you must know how to help them. If they become your enemy, then you must know how to stop them. _

The man nodded, his exhaustion catching up with him, under the bombardment of the Prince’s questions.

_ Smart _ , they had somehow infiltrated the city unnoticed.

"Has the city had an influx in populous recently?" Yon asked, pieces falling into place as he built a picture of what might have happened.

The man halted at this question. Yon realised he needed to rephrase.

"Were there more people than usual? Had more people come to visit or live in the city from the africas or the east?" he slowly asked.

"No… no more than usual, my Prince. The Great Fast will start soon, many people come to the city after the new year and before Pasha." the man hurriedly explained.

This posed a problem, capitals were the centres of trade and immigration. Cities like Constantinople and Hæla are the heart of their empires. People from all walks of life flock towards them, hoping to be close to the heart of their civilisations. This was doubly worrisome when both Constantinople and Hæla opened their doors to religious pilgrims, the Temple of the Supremor had many visitors.

There were too many unknown facts, things did not seem right. Yon struggled with the idea that Xandar could be taken unawares. Could this man be lying? 

"How did you get away? If the gates were closed?" Yon asked, his suspicion of the man colouring his tone. If things were as dire as he explained, how was he here to tell them of this tragedy? There was no known way in or out of the city apart from the bay or the gates.

"The old cistern system under the city, my prince. My children on occasion would play there, some of the tunnels lead far outside the city. My master sent me here, he was the emissary for the Rus. He told me to return home to Hæla and spread the word to protect our people." exhaustion laced in the man’s voice.

"Go, Rest." Yon dismissed the man, there was no new information he could provide.

"Commander," he addressed Minerva, "send people to confirm if this is true, gather as much information as we can about this. We need to confirm if it was the Thanosians, and we need to know what they are doing now." Minerva bowed and left to attend to her task.

"Someone please send for Ronan, he is praying at the Temple." He requested from the nearest low level courtier.

If, as he suspected, this invasion had been led by men from inside the city, they must have crept in slowly, over weeks, maybe months. Could the same be occurring here?

"Why is he praying so late? Does this news require the immediate appeal to the Supremor for his intervention?" The smooth voice of Zmeya, the Minister of Finance enquired. Yon disliked the man, he never trusted him and the feeling it seemed was mutual. Whilst the man's wife had the smarts of an ostrich egg, he was an extremely intelligent man. He never missed a thing. Were he not an inherent self serving coward, he would have been a formidable StarKree operative.

Yon sighed, to add to their woe, he would need to inform them of his grandfather; yet he felt this man knew already. Why else would he speak up?

"He prays for the speedy recovery of the Emperor. Our Emperor is unwell, yet he will return to us soon enough. For the time being, I am to be his proxy. My wishes are his wishes, my voice is his voice." The news caused the group to gasp and murmur once more. The news was troubling enough without the looming threat of war or invasion by Thanos. Many looked to the Chancellor of State, who confirmed the events.

"You were called here at this hour to inform you of our Emperor’s situation and request you too, pray for his speedy recovery. In light of what we have just heard, we will need to fortify our defences. We need extra patrols of guards on the streets tonight and a curfew will be put in place immediately.” Yon’s voice rang with a confidence he did not entirely feel.

“Areas around our main fortifications must remain off limits to anyone other than military personnel." he would not risk their infrastructure to spies. Murmurs in the crowd began to rise.

"We should close the gate to the citadel, protect ourselves!" Cried a minister from the crowd, several more agreed.

"And leave those outside the inner wall defenseless? Shut them out as if they mean nothing to us? No!" Yon bit back, incredulous at the cowardice shown "We are  _ one  _ Empire, all under the grace of His Supreme Intelligence. No one will be abandoned or outcast until we know more. Besides, the gates of Constantinople didn't stop them, why should ours?" He tried to calm his frustrations. It had been a long evening and he was in need of rest. 

"Go! Sleep! Pray for our Emperor and the salvation of us all." Yon turned his back on the crowd, a clear dismissal. He waited until they had all retreated from the hall, talking and complaining amongst themselves.

Yon stared at his grandfather's throne, his throne for the time being, it was merely a wooden chair, but the idea of sitting on it and all that came with it, daunted him.

He cautiously walked steps of the daises and slowly lowered himself into the chair. Once seated he waited for some divine solution to reveal itself. His grandfather always seemed to know what to do, without any hesitation.

He needed more information. He needed to make the right decisions here or else he would never recover politically.

He needed sleep.

The idea of his bed reminded him of another need; he needed to not need her.

* * *

Vers had struggled to get back to sleep after they had been awoken by the servants. She was not sure when Yon had joined her, but after he was gone again, she was on edge and restless. She knew something was happening, she could taste it in the air, and she hated not knowing. It would be a few hours before the servants would bring her food to break her fast, so she decided to dress and practise some of the movements which she had been learning with Minerva. 

The style of fighting was foreign to her, whilst she was capable, and learning quickly, it was still a challenge not to fall back into her natural stances. This often caused her to block incorrectly and let Minerva through her defences. Whilst the other woman did not always manage to land a blow, her own movements became sloppy until she was able to centre herself and focus again.

As Vers moved, she could still feel the tension wound in her muscles from the day before. She stretched and moved through the motions, pushing her limbs almost to their limits. She would continue her training today and didn’t want to be too tired. She paid little attention to the servants delivering her meal, she almost didn’t notice they had bought an unexpected guest with them, until after they had scurried away. She turned to find the woman from the day before, Natasha, standing just inside the entrance, observing Vers’ routine. There was no judgement in her eyes, just open curiosity. Vers recognised that look, she had seen it many times in Måria’s eyes as children when they had watched the older warriors practice. A look she no doubt had worn herself for many years.

“You’re really good.” the woman complimented her. Vers wondered if Natasha was merely being polite or if she had a point of reference to compare. Most women in the court wouldn’t, but this newcomer just might. There was something about her Vers couldn’t quite place. 

“Thank you” Vers replied, whilst idly twisting the sword. She wasn't sure why Natasha was here, as friendly as she had been, Vers was weary of her after the prior days events. She was caught between the desire to scare the girl off and satiate the blood lust she felt, or apologise to better make a friend, or atleast one less enemy.

Natasha sensed Vers’ hesitation, and stepped forward slowly, eyeing the sword she still held. “I wanted to come check on you after yesterday. I was forbidden from doing so earlier, we all were. Although, I don't think the others cared too much to do so. With skills like that, I'm surprised you didn't run her through in the first place.”

Vers chuckled, “The thought had crossed my mind.” She looked at her breakfast and realised the servants had bought enough for two, yet she wasn't sure when Yon would return “Have you eaten? Would you like to join me?” she gestured to the platter of food, and Natasha nodded in acceptance.

They sat themselves down, where Natasha proceeded to pour tea. Vers noticed a note on the table alongside the food. She picked up the paper to read its contents.

“I wanted to know if you wanted to join me in the market tomorrow, or explore the city some more? I’d offer to attend Temple with you, but I wasn't certain if you would accept. I haven't exactly seen you there.” Natasha asked politely whilst Vers contemplated the letter’s content.

“How about today?” Vers raised her gaze towards her companion.

“Excuse me?” 

“It seems my day has freed up, my instructor has urgent matters to attend to.” Vers nodded to the paper as she placed it on the table, swapping it for some tea. “Since I doubt anyone wants me back to help with sewing, I could do with some company.” she eyed Natasha to see her reaction. The girl smiled at the joke, not the least bit offended nor concerned.

“Even better. The market is better the earlier you go.” Nathasha smiled at Vers around her cup.

The women finished their breakfast and headed into the area of town which held the market. Vers had never truly explored the city. She had only ever been escorted to certain sections, so the free reign she was being given was uplifting to her soul. They still had guards in tow, but being able to go where she chose and not where she was sent was enough for her not to mind. 

The city was a complex mixture of buildings and alleyways. Even though she had gradually become more familiar to the look and feel of Hæla, it was still so different from home. So much grander, and she couldn't help but feel small and out of place, surrounded by towering buildings of stone and metal instead of wood. 

Even with her eager elation at her outing, she could sense something charged in the air. As they passed through the inner wall of the citadel towards the main market, she noticed more guards than she felt necessary along the battlements and in the gateway. They bowed at her approach, and blocked the passing of peasants and workers to allow her and Natasha through. It seemed odd to her, their behaviour and presence especially so early in the day, yet she hadn't been into this area of the city, so was unsure if this was normal.

The market was more familiar to her, it bustled with the sounds and smells of the life she was used to. Everywhere she went, markets were the same. Even on their raids to the west, the markets of the towns they had raided were as familiar to her as the ones her father had taken her to as a child. At home they would go for supplies, meat, and pelts. Occasionally if they had extra gold to afford it, they would buy herbs, or something exotic which some foreign trader was peddling, but mostly they had stuck to essentials. Yet here, she imagined Natasha had other intentions for their visit. Vers couldn't see the woman returning to the palace with a few skinned rabbits or a goat for dinner.

As they walked amongst the vendors, Vers drank in so many new and wonderful things. She saw tables covered with beautiful silks, lanterns made of coloured glass, beautifully painted plates made from something she was told was porcelain. She smelt aromas she had never experienced, and saw delicacies so foreign to her she wasn’t sure they were even food. So many different people from such different backgrounds, their culture painted by the colour of their skin, or the clothes they wore. Vers was in awe. 

Natasha eventually led them to a stall set in one of the walls surrounding the market square. This man was a jeweler, and had many beautiful stones and gold. Some of the pieces were very intricate, whomever had made them should be proud of their work. They looked nothing like the bulky pieces she had looted in her raids. 

Natasha asked the man for something in a tongue Vers didn’t recognise. The man nodded and disappeared into his store.

“This is one of the finest jewelers in the Empire. We had a necklace commissioned for our guardian’s new wife. A peace offering if you will.”Nathasha explained while she waited for the vendor.

“A peace offering or a bribe?” Vers asked absentmindedly as she looked at the items in front of her. She realised that whilst honest, her comment may have crossed the line. She looked at Natasha to apologise, but caught the girl smirking. 

“Whatever keeps the she-wolf happy, and out of his ear to cut our purse strings. I'm not getting stuck with the next pompous nobleman who comes along, just because he has money and my sister and I are in need of income.”

Vers instantly felt a kindred connection with Natasha. She had felt the same way, and had circumstances been different, she would still be home nursing the same sentiment until the day she died. The jeweler returned with Natahsa’s commission, whilst Vers continued to look at what else was on offer. She didn't want jewels, she didn't need them. She was certain she had access to plenty, should she be so inclined. Jewels for her were money; gold and gems which meant food and supplies. They were pretty, she wasn't blind, but to her they were useless. Or so she thought until one piece caught her eye.

It was a dainty thin blade, with a finely decorated cylindrical gold handle topped with a green orb. Highly ornate, but the blade looked sharp. Vers picked up the object and inspected it closer, the weight did not feel flimsy in her hand, the blade, whilst short, looked well tempered and had a fine edge. She doubted it could cut someone's throat, but it could definitely poke out an eye. The vendor, having seen her interest in the piece, came to speak to her in the same tongue she did not understand.

“He says it is from the far east, that… the handle is gold and ivory, that the jewel on top is jade, which is meant to bring luck to the wearer.” Natasha kindly translated as the man spoke.

“The wearer?” Vers was confused, it was clearly a knife, not a jewel.

“He says that it is the fashion of ladies there to wear such things in their hair, like a pin.”

She looked at the item again, she could slightly see that purpose in its thin design, although she wasn't sure how it would work in her hair without cutting her scalp. The man held out his palms for the item and bowed his head respectfully. Vers placed it in his hands. The man picked up a second piece from the table and sheathed the blade. Now it looked like an innocuous hair piece. Perfect! She needed to have something she could quickly access, and goodness knows she’d lose valuable time trying to access a dagger on her thigh, with all the damn layers she was forced to wear.

“I’ll take it” she stated boldly, and went to her pocket for some gold. “How much?”

As Natasha translated to man, his demeanor changed, he looked to her and his eyes grew wide. He placed his hand over his heart and bowed repeatedly to Vers, presenting her the item in his upturned palms. Vers didn't need a translator to know what he’d just been told.

“He says it would be his honour to gift the Grand Princess such a beautiful item.” This made Vers uncomfortable. The man clearly hadn't made it, but he’d lose money by just giving it to her. The man once again offered her the hairpiece, this time with an insistent  _ please _ in Rus. She took the item graciously. She would have someone from the palace give the man money later, she wouldn't see him go without.

Vers and Natasha both left and continued through the market. Vers was now more alert of her surroundings, she was on edge from her interaction with the vendor. Whilst she had been glad she had not been easily recognised at first, now she was concerned that someone might recognise her, which made her uneasy and she wasn't entirely sure why. 

She noticed a large number of guards positioned around the market and a few on the walls. A market shouldnt require so many guards, but perhaps she was just being paranoid. Suspicious when there was no need for it. Yon’s comments about not being able to trust people were getting to her. Even he admitted that he was unnecessarily suspicious of people's actions. Vers took in a deep breath and tried to calm herself. 

Perhaps they could go to the docks? The water and boats always calmed her. “Could we go down to the lakes edge? I think some sea breeze could do me some good.” Vers suggested to her companion.

“Of course. Perhaps we could catch the ferry across the lake to the eastern outpost? There's honestly not much there except farms, but the journey is nice.” 

“That sounds amazing!” Vers’ heart leapt at the idea of being on the actual water.

“Well then, lets get some food for the journey and make a day of it!” Natasha smiled at Vers, and linked their arms together. Vers didn't care if it was inappropriate, or too familiar or whatever snide comments the ladies of the court would say. At that moment, she could not have cared less if Natasha was only trying to gain favour with her, or if she was genuinely trying to be a friend. Vers was just happy to get the chance to be on the open water once more.

“We should probably get a bit extra for our shadows too. Maybe they’ll look less grumpy with a snack?” Vers cocked her head to indicate their guards. Both the women giggled, and Vers felt a little less lonely, and little more at home.

When Yon had returned to his chambers, Vers was gone and his breakfast had been eaten. He had not returned directly that night after speaking with Ronan, but had visited Elreg for a short while, or perhaps a long while, he wasn't sure. He had no desire to wake the boy and tell him of his father’s illness, not when he slept so peacefully. Instead he sat by the fire and watched the boy. Yon hated how these rooms were no more than a gilded cage for the young child, Elreg should be free to run and play, like he himself had been. Yet, as the next in line to the throne, he was precious, he needed to be protected. Now, even more so. 

* * *

Yon was troubled. This wasn't the first time Thanosians had secretly infiltrated a city. After they had assassinated his father, Hæla was plunged into complete lockdown. The gates were sealed, their people locked out or in, separated from their families. Those who were not native Rus, or came from the outer reaches of their Empire were persecuted in the streets, or questioned by the Accussors until they died. It was a dark time, not just due to their mourning.

Yon would not see those horrid events repeated. Yet he had to protect his people, his family, his Empire. He loathed to burden the boy more, to restrict what little freedoms he had. Yet Elreg needed to remain safe, that was paramount. Whilst Yon drew breath, he would ensure it. Concern about who would help the boy if he, himself, stopped drawing breath needled at him. The boy would need a regent, and none of the ministers nor even Ronan were ideal choices. But this was foolish, pessimistic thinking, brought on by a lack of sleep.

Yon left the boy once he was satisfied with his safety, and quietly roamed the halls. He was exhausted, yet still restless, his mind trying to solve a problem it could no longer clearly see. When he eventually made his way back, it was bitter sweet to find Vers absent. It was for the best. He picked through what had been left and noticed a note in Minerva’s hand. 

He summoned a servant, for food and to find out where his wife was. Since she had been told there was no training, where had she gone to? He hoped it was not back to the women’s quarter.

“Your highness” a timid voice called from behind him.

“Where is my wife?” he polity enquired of the servant.

“The market, your Highness, her and the Lady Romanova just left not long ago with two guards.” Good! At least she had guards.

“Thank you. It's been a long night, I do not wish to be disturbed until mid morning unless it's urgent. Please come and wake me then with food.” it was not ideal, but it should be a sufficient amount of sleep to get him through the rest of the day. He dismissed the servant and walked to the bed. It had been made despite a small lump in the middle under the covers, which he suspected would be orange upon closer inspection. Yon climbed in, and let out a heavy sigh as he tried to settle into well needed sleep. Whilst he was glad for the peace and solitude, the bed, which had never changed in its size in all the years he had owned it, had never felt so big nor so cold as it did in that moment.

* * *

Vers had enjoyed herself immensely, it was hard to think that less than a day earlier she had felt entirely out of place in this wretched city. Now, she felt nothing could spoil her mood. Natasha and Vers had sailed across the lake to an outpost which sat on the bank opposite the citadel. She had passed it on her journey here, but now she had the chance to explore. The boat could fit many more people on it, however the guards had insisted that no-one else could accompany them. 

For the first time, she used her position for her own advantage, and ordered her guards otherwise. A concession was soon made, and a half load of people, goods, and animals joined them instead. As they made their way across the lake, Vers was in awe by what she saw. The city was huge, sprawling further than she had realised now that she was inclined to take in all the details. The mountains in the background framing the entire picture were breathtaking. They no longer felt ominous, she was seeing it all in a new light, and understood the pride Yon felt for his home.

She also took the opportunity to talk with the others on the boat; a sweet old man told her of the story of how Hæla had been founded, and regalled them all with many more tales on their trip. Natasha and Vers shared their meal with the others, all of which seemed surprised that their Grand Princess would be so openly generous. She felt for them, more so she felt sorry that the people she lived with seemed so out of touch with those who lived around them. The old man mentioned he wouldn't even know she was a noble lady if it wasn't for her guards. She was warmed by such an endearing endorsement.

When they had reached the other side, the guards would not let her off the boat, to her disappointment, but she didn't mind, as it meant she would have the breeze on her face and in her hair longer.

When they returned to the palace, they were both elated from the adventures. They returned to her chambers to find Yon still absent, so she ordered her evening meal. This time for three, just in case he did join. Natasha and her were laughing over a story from Natasha’s childhood when they were joined by an unexpected visitor.

The Princess Yulia entered with one of her ladies in waiting. Vers recognised the woman, but didn't care enough to remember her by name. The Princess did not look impressed at their behaviour.

“I'm sure even in your own lands, it is poor manners to be so joyful at such dark times.” the Princess scolded the two women, her voice dripping in disappointment. Vers and Natasha scrambled to their feet. Vers somehow felt like she was a child again, and her father had caught her doing something she knew she shouldn't.

“I’m sorry? I'm not sure what you speak of” Vers was confused by the Princess’ words. She had expected the disappointment and steely glare, if she was honest, she was beginning to realise that there would be nothing she could do to ever impress the Princess. Yet the choice of words made Vers pause.

“Did your husband not inform you?” Vers wasn't sure if it was disbelief or condescension she heard. Vers wasn't sure what was happening, but she felt she had to tread lightly.

“No, we have not seen each other since he was called away early this morning.” honesty at this point was her best shield.

“Well then, I regret to inform you both that the Emperor is ill. I'm sure the Grand Prince will elaborate further. I had come searching for you earlier, but you were not available. In light of the current situation I felt that we needed to cover more of your lessons in our ways.”

“I'm sorry, I had know idea.” Vers stepped forward without realising, she had wanted to comfort the Princess, but thought better of the sentiment. 

“Never mind my dear, what is done is past. Meanwhile, I bought you a gift.” The Princess waved her companion forward. The woman held a small wooden box in her hands. She presented it to Vers, who felt the box contained more a curse than a gift.

Vers slowly lifted the lid, where inside sat a small collection of vials, each containing some liquid or potion. The strange customs in this land left her confused. What was she to do with these? She looked to the Princess for an explanation. The haughty smile on the Princess’ face made Vers think she wasn't going to like what she was about to hear.

“These are lotions meant to help increase fertility, dear. Considering you have yet to conceive, and now the urgent nature of our circumstances, I felt a helping hand would not hurt. You must remember your true purpose here, since you insist on ignoring your  _ other _ responsibilities.”

Vers was unsure if she felt insulted by the Princesss’ insinuation at her infertility or guilty about the fact the Princess was under the misguided assumption that she and Yon were fully bonded. Or was this another test? Did the Princess somehow know the real truth? Vers didn't think she would have to face this concern so soon, or ever, frankly. Perhaps she should have. Vers needed to be careful, she could not give anything away, so she attempted to call the Princess’ bluff.

“How do you know that we have not yet been so blessed?” These things took time, even in their announcement, and she had barely been here over a month.

“Your bleeding, of course.” The Princess answered matter of factly.

_ What?  _ How did the Princess know she had bled? It had only been this morning Vers had discovered it herself. The Princess must have seen Vers’ concern, as a sly smile crossed her face. “I know everything that happens in these walls my dear.”

The feeling of joy Vers had been left with from her day evaporated. She had no privacy, and now couldn't trust the servants. What else does this woman know? How many lurking eyes or ears report back to her? Did the Princess know they had not bedded each other yet? 

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of dear, these are merely to help the process along. Afterall, a field needs to be nourished before seeds can be sewn, and the rewards reaped.” Her voice had taken on a sing song lilt, as if that could hide the venom behind her words.

“Thank you Aunt Yulia, your gift and your advice are noted.” the clipped voice of Yon came from behind the Princess, who turned in surprise. He did not look amused. He looked to be as seething as Vers felt.

The Princess sensibly excused herself, as did Natasha, who squeezed Vers arm on her way past in a much needed sign of comradery. Once the room was clear, he stalked over to his desk, loosening his collar as he went. “Where have you been?” he bit out, his anger seemingly not directed at his aunt at all. 

“We went to the market, then sailed on the lake.” Vers tried to recover and think through her feelings on what just happened, she realised she was still dumbly holding the box. “What's going on? What happened to the Emperor?” she asked as she approached the table.

“You went sailing?” Yon asked her incredulously, as he threw himself into his chair, eyebrows knitted together.

It seems she would not be escaping his ire, but she wasn't going to just take it either. “We took the ferry to the outpost.” She placed the box on the table harder than necessary “What's going on? Are you alright?” she demanded of him. If he wanted her to trust him, then he needed to be truthful and include her.

She watched as Yon sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was new, but she had also never seen him so irate. She sat down opposite him. Her annoyance drained a little.

“I didn't know your grandfather was sick when we went, I'm sorry. If I had known, I would have stayed... although I'm not sure what good that would have done.” she offered softly, in the hopes to show him some compassion for his plight.

When he still did not react, she tried again, wondering if he was in this mood because he was worried for her. “I had guards with me, and there were plenty of others in the city. I was cautious.”

“One less worry at least.” He mumbled before looking at her. The anger within his gaze seemed to have faded until his eyes fell on the box in between them. They grew steely once more, and he leaned forward and slammed the lid shut on the box.

“She was out of line” he grumbled into the space between them, glaring at the box as if he could will it to combust into flames on its own.

“I know, but why do I sense she’s the least of our worries?” she tilted her head to try and catch his eyes, she needed him to talk to her, she didnt care if it was her place or not. “What's going on?” she coaxed.

“The Emperor is sick, and we may be at war.” he leaned back again in his chair, exhaling harshly through his nose, almost defeated in his appearance.

“What?” That was not the answer she was expecting. The news of the Emperor, yes… but war? “...How?”

“Constantinople has fallen” was all he provided her with. As if the statement itself was all the explanation she needed.

The name meant nothing to her, she racked her memories for something that could enlighten her. She was bitterly ignorant of the world she had landed in, and it irked her. Her pride railed at the idea of her seeming weak, willing her to pretend that she knew what or who this Constantinople was.

For a moment she contemplated feigning understanding, hoping she could gain more information with more details. Yet she hesitated too long, Yon had looked at her and the realisation that his words were meaningless dawned on him.

"Apologies, I forgot your people are not as aware of the continent as the rest of us." he noted

She knew he didn't mean it as an insult, but she bristled at it all the same. "No, and whose fault is that?" She bit back, she couldn't help but want to fight and defend herself. Her ignorance here wasn't her fault.

He held his hands up in a gesture of submission, he understood her plight “I know, I know! I just didn't think you would need to know so soon.” he placated, accepting the blame she laid at his feet. “Constantinople is a great and ancient city west of here. She is the heart of the Byxandarian empire, the Xandarians are an old great empire, the only remnants left of the great Roman Empire. Whilst we may be younger than them, we rival them in power and size. We are currently at peace with them, despite previous hostilities.” He trailed off as he was lost in thought. “We were at peace with them...”

She waited patiently, he looked tired, older, as if the day had worn on him more than it should have. She could see the shadows under his eyes, and hair growing across his chin.

“Constantinople is a fortress city, and has held back invaders for almost 500 years. It was thought she was impregnable, that the Xandarians were untouchable, that they would never be defeated, until this morning. A messenger arrived informing us that the city had fallen to Thanosian attack. I'm still waiting for confirmation from people I trust. I dispatched Mirnerva to find out more. But if it is true, we will either be next or forced to act in retaliation."

Vers listened intently, trying to understand. "Is that why there seemed to be more guards in the city today?"

He looked at her with surprise which changed to impressed as he regarded her “Yes, I didn't realise you would notice.”

“They're a little hard to miss, especially when they are harassing people.” she scoffed. Yon looked perturbed by her comment but wasn't given the chance to press her for more details. She had so many questions and struggled not to blurt them all out at once. “So who are the Fenoshens? What do they want? What… what does this mean for Hæla? For us? For you? Are...are you now Emperor? How…how does that work with your grandfather? How  _ is _ your grandfather? How are  _ you _ ?” she reached for his hand across the table and clasped it, hoping to offer him support if not comfort. There was no doubt that the relationships between Yon and his family were strange to her, if not strained, but they were still his family.

He smiled at both her concern and her adorable string of astute questions. It warmed his heart to hear her care for his well being more than his position. She asked about his grandfather, not the Emperor, and she asked about  _ him _ . His Aunt had sought him out earlier to remind him of his  _ duty _ , but had not asked him of his own frame of mind.

He squeezed her hand in return “I’ll be fine, nothing sleep can't cure, but the Emperor may not. He has taken ill, a fever. He is old and may not survive, despite his stubbornness and our prayers otherwise.” he caught himself smiling at the hope his grandfather’s stubbornness would remedy his illness alone “In the meantime he has made me Regent, in effect, my voice is his voice, and my decisions should be followed as if they were his.”

“And yet?” she enquired, sensing that there was more to this.

“Any and all consequences will be borne by me solely. Some are already seeing the coincidence of the situation as a foreshadowing of my ability to be Emperor, as if I was somehow personally responsible for this misfortune.” He scoffed at the ridiculousness of it “All of my actions, my decisions will be scrutinised, any mistake, no matter how trivial, will be remembered. An unpleasant situation under normal circumstances.”

”But now you have a war to fight and win.” she surmised.

“It would seem so...” exhausted as he was, he was unable to still himself. He raised from his seat and paced the room slowly, trying to order his thoughts.

Vers watched him as he paced. She realised it was how he worked when he needed to think, for all his stillness, his calm controlled demeanor, he needed to move to focus himself. It is why she had found him practicing in the field during her journey to this place. Back when he was just a General to her.

“You feel like the Gods are not on your side; but don’t worry, they are!” she called over her shoulder as she ventured toward her belongings, extracting the blades she practiced with. She heard a short mirthless chuckle from him. She wondered if he questioned her sentiment or the invocation of her gods.

“I hope they are, that  _ He _ is, for failure can not be an option.” he mused.

She approached him, twirling the blades with her wrists, and offered up the one she began to see as his. He looked at the blade as a smile ghosted his lips, and accepted her gesture gratefully. She set the pace, slow, easy flowing movements of a basic routine. There was no power behind their clashes, the aim was movement, distraction, not an earnest fight. At least not yet.

“Do you really think these Fenoshens would attack again in the middle of winter? Or is that why they attacked the other city? Noone would expect them to?” 

“ _ Than-o-sians”  _ he repeated for her with a smile, clearly amused by her mispronunciation. She couldn’t help if he talked with a funny accent, how was she supposed to understand every word?

“That's what I said” she smirked at him as she twisted and parried. His sword hit hers with a little more force, showing her he appreciated the levity of her sassiness.

“Yes, well not an attack as such. It seems they may have infiltrated Constantinople over time and then attacked from the inside while the city slept.” he shared with her.

“So they’re cowards? They fight with no honour” Where was the glory of death in battle if you silently slit the throats of your enemies as they slept? What glory could be gained from such deception? Vers had never seen the point of such actions.

“Honour? No. Cowards? Questionably, but I will admit, their deception achieved what plenty of armies and thousands of men have failed to for centuries.” he sounded both impressed and worried at the achievement of these people.

“What do the Thanosians stand for? Who are they?” she asked, wanting to better understand their enemy.

“Men. Women. Perhaps even children, who follow a mad man who considers himself a god amongst men. They are not a people from a race or creed like you or me. They are a militia. Outcasts from their own societies, following a man named Thanos who has deigned himself to be the ‘true voice’ on earth.” he explained between blows.

Vers could almost feel Yon’s hatred ooze from him, his swings had grown harsher and he was beginning to push her harder. His distaste for this Thanos was palpable, especially the idea that the man thought himself a god. Perhaps he was a god? Many gods often chose to walk amongst the people of Midgard. Some people, like her, like her mother, were even descendants of the gods. Perhaps this Thanos was too?

“So they don’t believe in your god?” she concluded from his words.

“ _ Our _ god now.” he reminded her. She tried her hardest not to roll her eyes at him. She purposely missed a parry causing him to slash at air as she stepped out of his way. He stumbled forward a little before righting himself. He side eyed her, her point made. Her gods were hers, she would not abandon them, not in her heart. She still proudly wore her turc and Mjolnir around her neck. She would not relinquish her beliefs at the altar in the Temple. He could believe what he wanted, his god was his to choose.

“Yes and No.” he sighed “They believe in His Supreme Intelligence, yet they oppose the authority of those ordained to speak and rule on His behalf.”

“We, the KreeRus, have been chosen to spread the light of His Supreme Intelligence to the people. The Xandarians used to, it was their purpose, but they lost their way; more concerned with their city and gold than His will. So we took up the mantle and the Empire was built to bring those less fortunate into His Grace, and to defend those who cannot defend themselves against the darkness of this world.” She had heard this before, his loyalty to his god and purpose whilst verbose, was unquestionable - it was almost admirable.

“Thanos claims that it is he and he alone who speaks for the Supremor. That we, Xandar, and even the Pope of Rome are all false shepherds. He preaches hate and eradication, to usurp the natural order, that  _ our _ heresy should be destroyed. Where we only want what is best for our people.” immersed in his story, his sparing had turned more serious, he was using real force behind his moves.

“They were a growing threat, looming in exile. They had not dared make a serious move; skirmishes in our borderlands, failed uprisings in smaller towns. We didn't think they had the numbers, but now they’ve struck at the heart of Xandar and Hæla could be next.”

“So you’ve increased the guard in hopes of what? They’ll be scared of your numbers?” Vers knew from her own raids, that number didn't always need to be in your favour, if you could outthink the enemy you could still win the battle.

“I'm trying to protect the city from a foreign incursion. With our soldiers posted at important points, if they choose to attack from either inside or out we will be better protected, and faster to respond” he countered.

“How? The city is huge… we went to the eastern outpost today, they have no wall. No defenses. How do you intend on protecting them? Or is it only those inside here that matter?” she scolded him whilst looking for answers.

His face darkened at the insinuation. 

“Not at all, that's why I didn't order the citadel to be closed. Everyone's safety matters! But a foreign invader isn't going to be as interested in the outpost as they are the inner citadel.” he sounded frustrated, as if he had been forced to explain himself too often and didn't care to justify himself once more. She imagined the ministers had argued his every decision, thought more of their own safety than that of the people she had spent the day with.

“I’m a foreign invader, remember? I single handedly took the fortress of Degar, afterall.” she reminded him, trying to brighten his mood

“I thought your shield sister helped?” his eyes twinkled at her story, knowing she was exaggerating on purpose. 

“Maybe a little.” she shrugged. She drove him backwards, hoping her advances would make him take her more seriously. “What I'm trying to suggest is why not use me? Hmm? Despite what your Aunt seems to think, I’m more than some broodmare you don't seem to want to hump.” Vers punctuated her last few words with the forceful clashing of their swords, her anger from before rising up at the reminder of the earlier visit. 

She glanced at the box on the table for the briefest of moments, but it was all Yon needed to catch her sword arm by the wrist and lock it above her head. He used the flat of his own sword to pin her to his body. Their chests heaved in unison as he looked down at her, their joined arms framing his face. 

“Who said I don't?” he growled low to her, his warm breath ghosting over her skin, making her shiver. “Perhaps I just don't want to be kicked.” a smirk broke across his face, one she wanted to wipe off. She proceeded a quick jab to his left shin, he grunted in discomfort as he released her and escaped any further kicks to his legs.

She didn't pursue him, she knew he wouldn’t listen to her if he was distracted, in fact, she wasn't sure she’d continue to pursue the idea either if he pinned her again with his heated look. 

“I can assess your defences, as an outsider, as someone who would potentially want to invade. You're focusing your men on where  _ you  _ think your weaknesses are. Not necessarily where they might attack, if they attack. You're also drawing attention to those places, and in turn ignoring others.” she advised him.

He nodded listening to her, his eyes focused nowhere in particular.

“A shield wall can be used to protect both your front and your flank. A wall wall, will only ever protect your front.” she imparted to him.

“You’re right” he conceded as he came to collect her blade from her. The fighting was clearly done.

“Of course I am” Vers beamed at her victory.

“How remiss of me to waste the resources of the mighty Vers in our time of need.” he teased her in return. He leaned into her, his eyes drifting from hers to her mouth. Inopportunely in its timing, her stomach growled, loudly, reminding her of her interrupted dinner. He chuckled at her, and nodded to the food as he placed her weapons away for her.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vers tried to invade Hæla

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!! Remember me?
> 
> Firstly, I apologise for taking forever to get back to this, and thank you for sticking around, and as a show of gratitude for your patience, I give you a double release with the promise that there are more on the way!
> 
> And a map! CaptainCinderBella had an excellent idea I should map out the city, so [ here you go. ](https://pandora-cleo.tumblr.com/post/629906153634168833/maps-of-the-citadel-of-h%C3%A6la-and-greater-h%C3%A6la)

It is quiet, calm. 

Everything always seems that way after fresh snow has fallen. 

Small flurries float in the air, white blanketing everything. 

A fire crackles, its smoke gliding towards the heavens as a man sits on a log, poking idly at the coals.

The branches of the nearby fir trees stir, although there is no breeze. The snow captured by their tiny needles threatens to tumble to the ground as they sway.

Riders break through the treeline, sending the snow flying; the snow covered ground muffling the sound of their hooves.

The lead rider slices through the man with one swing. He falls onto the fire, never seeing the face of his attacker. 

An attacker dressed just like him.

More men are felled, cut down as the riders plunge onward. Not until the first screams are heard, do others know they are under attack.

It is quick.

It is bloody.

It is chaos.

The lead rider turns to survey the destruction. The blood of the men he has slain, drips from his blade onto the cold ground. 

Pure white stained red. 

There is no more white, just red. 

Blood snow and bodies.

A figure walks barefoot through the carnage, like a spectre, searching for a sign of life. 

The figure looks at the rider, and stills.

There is no recognition, the rider's face is covered, all but the eyes. Cold, cruel eyes that fill her with a familiar sense of dread.

At her feet she hears a familiar sound. She looks down, and sees the body of a boy. He is maimed, dying. She crouches down to cradle him. It's Elreg, poor, sweet Elreg.

“Did I do enough? Was I brave enough?” his voice is faint as he strains to talk.

He looks in her eyes for guidance and comfort. Blood leaks from the corner of his mouth.

It breaks her heart, it is too soon, he is too young.

“Yes! Yes, you were so brave! The bravest warrior of them all.” she soothes him, stroking his hair as tears well in her eyes. “The Gods are here, they saw you, you will feast in the halls of Valhalla with them. They will sing songs of the brave young prince.” He couldn't die, not this sweet child.

She looks around, could anyone help her? Help him?

The bodies surrounding her had grown in number, hundreds of bodies now lay around her. Where there were trees before, there was now a city on fire. The faces closest to her were ones she recognised; Minerva, Bronn, Ætlass, Natasha. Her blood runs cold.

“I just wanted to help them. Did I do enough?” the boy in her arms asks.

She looks at him once more, but he is no longer a boy. He is a man.

Yon’s face looks up at her, cradled in her arms. Dying. “Did I do enough?” 

As she looks at him in horror, she barely notices the sound of hooves approaching, until she feels the breath of a blade against her neck. 

  
  
  


Vers woke with a start, gasping for air. She was disoriented, and sat up quickly looking behind her. There was nothing there but pillows and a wall. She jumped as a warm hand grasped her wrist gently. She tried to pull back, but it grasped her firmer.

“Hey, shh… it was just a dream” the voice was warm and soft, heavy with sleep. She had just heard that voice as he lay dying in her arms. Golden eyes sought hers, filled with concern and life. So different from the ones she had seen moments ago.

Yon sat up next to her, rubbing his hands along her arms, shushing her, trying to soothe her. 

She tried to calm her breathing. It was just a dream. He was here, alive and well, right next to her. His hand came up and tucked strands of gold behind her ear. He cupped her cheek and the warmth from his palm grounded her. She closed her eyes, willing the last traces of her fear away.

“What did you see?” he asked gently. 

“Death.” she opened her eyes to look at him, the tears she had shed for the boy waiting to spill free.

She had seen death before, she had delivered it herself many times. It did not scare her. But this was different. He sensed that. 

He protectively wrapped an arm around her shoulders and guided her to his chest. He pulled them back down onto the bed, her head resting above his heart. She listened to it beat, assuring her he was alive. He gently ran his hand up and down her back. The soothing motions soon sent her back to sleep.

* * *

She awoke later feeling surprisingly well rested. The first thing she realised was her head no longer rested on a solid mass of muscle, but her pillow. She sat up slowly, and looked around the room. She spotted him in a corner, his back turned, dressing himself in robes she had not seen him wear before. 

She would reluctantly admit he looked good in almost everything he wore, she assumed it was his princely aire. But this outfit was especially well suited to him, it was very regal. Thick embroidered wool of a dark grey, with emerald and gold interwoven into the fabric. It was the same flared tunic cut he had worn on their wedding day. It no doubt kept him warm, but she was a little displeased that it covered so much of his legs and behind.

“Good morning” he called over his shoulder to her.

She felt her cheeks flush, embarrassed that she’d been caught staring at him. She looked away quickly before he witnessed her ogling. Her embarrassment compounded when she realised she was on his side of the bed. 

She cleared her throat, “Morning” she replied, her voice husky with sleep. He turned just enough to glance her way, a warm smile on his face. She willed the warm feeling settling in her tummy to disappear. She returned his smile, before looking away and scrambling out of bed. 

She walked over to her own belongings, collecting a few essentials to clean herself with, before dressing.

“I summoned Bronn to assist you with your assessment today. He will be able to guide you through the city and point out key areas, he can answer any questions you might have. I thought it might be easier to discuss such things in your own tongue. The less ears listening the more secure your advice will be.”

“That would be helpful, thank you” She called to him as she walked behind a decorative screen to change away from his eyes, and any servants which may enter to attend them. She poured herself fresh warm water into a small washing basin and began to remove her night dress. She thought of the events of the night before, before her genius idea to help him in his problem. The revelation that Princess Yulia had known she had started her bleeding. Just when Vers had started to feel a little more settled in this world, that security was ripped away from her. A harsh reminder that she could trust no one, that she was an outsider. 

The woman’s concern made sense. Vers was not oblivious to her required duties here. She was married to the future Emperor, who would need an heir. Her presence was not that of a strategic alliance. No wars were being prevented by joining their peoples. She was here out of necessity. To legitimise Yon’s claim to the throne, and once there, produce a boy to further secure the future of both the Empire and the Rœgg Family.

Yet Vers had begun to hope, foolishly apparently, that with Yon’s encouragement of her tutelage under Minerva, that she was safe, if not free from this commitment for the time being. He certainly had not broached the subject. Yet evidently it was a burning concern for others. 

Children were never something she had considered for herself. She had Monica, she didn't need nor want any of her own. 

Vers would have been happy to spend the rest of her days watching Monica become a woman in her own right, between her own life of raiding and farming, when one day she would die gloriously in battle. Yet the gods had decided that her wish was not to be her fate, and so here Vers was, being watched like a field mouse by circling buzzards waiting to strike at the first sign of weakness. Or in this case blood.

She was staring at the water in the bowl, lost in her contemplation and anger, when Yon's voice carried over the partition, much closer than she had expected. “I also regret to inform you that you drool.”

“Excuse me?” She hadn't understood what he had said, his words broke her reverie and she quickly finished undressing to wash herself.

“You. Drool.” he repeated for her. She could hear the smirk in his voice, the conceited little...

“I do not.” She was outraged at such an accusation, she stuck her head out from around the partition to glare at him.

“As I have first hand experience at being a substitute pillow for you. I can, without a doubt, assure you that you do indeed drool. I woke up with a very wet chest this morning.” he had come to stand beside the edge of the partition, grinning at her with a challenge sparkling in his eye.

She gasped in mock offence, “Well you must have dreamed it, for I do no such thing!” she haughtily replied, before flicking him in the face with a spray of droplets from her hand. He flinched as the water hit his face, and then backed away chuckling to himself.

He proceeded to start eating without her as he read over a stack of new scrolls which had arrived on his desk. Once clean and dressed in warm clothes for her outing, Vers sat and started with her own meal when another bright idea came to her.

“Hold a vigil for your grandfather, at the Temple.” she suggested, the idea still forming in her head.

“Hmm?” he enquired as he looked up from the scroll he was reading.

“That's how you find them. The Thanosian.” she sat forward, becoming very animated about her new plan “You can't assume everyone new to the city is a traitor, nor can you realistically question everyone. You need to somehow draw them out without raising suspicion. If you hold a vigil for the Emperor, and encourage people to come and pray for him, it might be enough to identify the potential Thanosians. I doubt any actual traitors would readily want to attend such an event, especially if you say they believe he is a false ruler. It would work to flush some of them out. Those who don't attend should be considered suspicious.”

Yon pondered her suggestion, he had yet to determine a safe way to weed out any traitors. The ministers wanted Ronan to rampage through the streets, removing people from their homes, accusing anyone who showed resistance. Hers was a plan that might work, it just needed adjustments. 

"The last Thanosian attack in this city occurred at such an event. I do not want to risk the people being hurt whilst they attend worship. What if they use this opportunity to initiate their attack?”

“Then be ready for that too. There seem to be enough Accusers and StarKree to guard the temple and look for suspicious people?”

They were caught unaware last time, but with enough preparation they could indeed lay a suitable trap whilst appearing none the wiser.

“With further planning it could just be the solution we need. We are still uncertain if the Thanosians were behind the attack on Constantinople, or if we are even their next target.” He sorted the papers on his desk, and prepared to set out for the day.

“Either way, I just hope I can do enough.” He had mumbled the last part to himself, unaware that Vers had caught it and that it was the reason for her sudden discomfort. 

He assumed her dark sombre gaze was due to a perceived criticism of her plan, so he attempted to cheer her “It is an excellent suggestion. We shall discuss it today with the ministers in our meeting this morning.”

“Well in that case” Vers jumped up and walked to gather her coat. She returned and stood on the opposite side of his desk, looking at him expectantly. 

“What are you doing?” he questioned her, unsure of why she was looking at him so.

“I’m coming with you, you just said we would discuss it.” she stated, pointing out the oversight in his choice of words. 

He hesitated, he didn't want to disappoint her by way of straight up rejection, but her attendance was out of the question. 

“I thought you were going to try and invade the city?” he hoped the gentle reminder would belay her excitement for attending council.

“Yes, but I can do that after your council meeting, besides don't I need to be there? To sit alongside you as a show of support? As acting Emperor and Empress and all, is it not my duty to accompany you? ...At least, that is what happens at home... Is it not the same here?” her voice trailed off, unsure, as she questioned him. She still had so much to learn.

Yon shifted uncomfortably where he stood, he wouldn't meet her eyes directly. She knew something was off.

“That won’t be necessary.” he cleared his throat, adding to her suspicion before he composed himself to look at her “Although thank you for the support, but you don't have to.”

“But I want to,” she proclaimed, she really did, although now it was out of stubborn curiosity rather than generosity. He didn't say anything but his discomfort visibly increased, she noticed the clenching of his jaw.

She narrowed her eyes at him “What is it? Why don't you want me to join you? Are you afraid I'll embarrass you?” she demanded, her anger mixing in with hurt. Her rejection could be read clearly on her face.

“No, that's not it.” he assured her; he rounded the table and held her shoulders in a firm embrace. She noticed he did this when he thought she needed comfort. It was friendly yet distant. 

He confused her at times, how he could be warm one moment, joke with her, and then distant the next. She briefly thought about how he held her last night after the dream, it was a very different embrace to this.

“Then what?” she grumbled at him.

He sighed, looking at their feet, pondering if he should tell her the truth or lie. Either way the results would be the same. “There's no place for you to sit.” was what he settled on. A half truth.

She remembered the pedestal clearly, with the large wooden chair sitting on top, allowing the Emperor to loom over his advisers. Whilst there was not another chair on the platform, there was easily enough space to accommodate something for her. 

“I‘ll sit next you, I’m sure they can find another seat to put up on that platform, even a foot stool will do.”

A defeated laugh left him, he should have known she would not have given up so easily. There would be no easy way out, so he may as well tell her. There was little he could do about it, and there were more pressing issues to be concerned with.

“Traditionally, the Emperor’s Queen lies at the feet of the Emperor.” he sheepishly admitted to her. He tensed waiting for her indignation to rain down on him.

Instead, she shrugged off his grip and stepped away from him. This was worse; no fury, just disbelief and disgust written across her features.

“What? Like a dog?” she scoffed, she couldn't believe this place.

“No, of course not!” he objected to her insinuation.

“But you just said the Queen just sits at your feet.” surely he was jesting? If he didn’t want her there, he simply needed to say so.

“...more like... lounges...” he wasn't helping, he knew that, but it was the truth. 

“So like a dog.” Vers quirked her eyebrow at him, challenging him to correct her. She was not amused. 

“Alright yes…” he conceded, now the plainness of the truth was in front of him “which is why I don't want you to be there. You are far from a pet… although your bite would be worse than most dogs,” she punched him in the arm for his insolence, she knew he was trying to make light of it, but she was not in the mood. “Yet you are not deserving of such treatment.”

“And your grandmother was alright with this?” she couldn't imagine an aging woman lounging at the foot of the old crone who normally took perch there.

“No, which is why she mostly held her own court, unless she was officially required. Hers is the throne which is seated in the central room of the women’s wing.” 

“Which your aunt now resides on.” Vers huffed, throwing her hands in the air. She was a Queen without a throne, neglectful in both her court and wifely duties and not likely, nor inclined, to remedy either situation anytime soon. She started pacing, mostly to prevent herself from lashing out at him.

“Now is not the time to question nor change traditions. Let it be enough that you have an important task to complete, not just for me, but for our people.” he implored her to understand. To cooperate.

“Fine!” she resigned, defeated to this place and its ridiculous ways. With her back still turned she strode from the room in search of Bronn. 

* * *

Bronn was waiting for her at the public entryway to the palace complex. It was through here most of the visitors and workers came and went. Vers could not understand the need for multiple entry points. Why was one door not sufficient enough? They were happy to have only one God, why not one door?

“Your Highness!” Bronn bowed his head to her in reverence, gone was the jovial man who had greeted her on her first day of training. Were things so dire that this giant of a man was now so serious? Or had Yon had a word to him? 

“Please, call me Vers.” she smiled at him warmly. He nodded his head, but she wasn't sure if he’d listen.

“Where shall we begin then? A tour of the walls of the citadel? Or perhaps the outer gates?”

Vers’ first instinct was to go to the outskirts of the city and imagine she was invading like she was on a raid. Except that is not what had happened in the Xandarian city. From what Yon had shared with her, the Thanosians had already been within the walls, and there was a possibility they already were here.

She needed to get the lay of the land, not just the important structures for defence.

“Does the library have a map of the city?” the Rus seemed to love recording their stories on paper. To her they were dead things, stories should be told, lived. Cities should be learned, memorised through exploration. But Hæla was too big to learn in one day and her task was urgent.

“Yes your highn... Vers. But I have been tasked with guiding y- ” 

“I know! You will. Do you think they’ll let us take it?” she asked as she already walked towards the library. Perhaps the scholar who tutored her could assist them? He was nice enough. Very patient. Although not much personality.

Bronn jogged to catch up with her, she was eager to get started. “I don’t see why not…” he pondered.

“Good, once we get the map, I need you to take me to the highest point in the city. I want to see everything.”

* * *

Hæla was far too big for a single map, or at least a single map which they could use. 

Her tutor had indeed been of assistance. With a great deal of pride he had shown his Grand Princess his life’s work. A map so large and so detailed it covered the entire floor of his workroom. It was truly a masterpiece!

Vers could spot all the places she knew and some of the places she had been told about on her journey across the lake. It contained every street, every wall, every dock along the lake’s shore. It also included the paths the underground springs took from the mountains behind the city as they ran to the lake.

As beautiful as it was, it was useless for her needs. Instead she was provided with a set of smaller maps, each showing a section of the city. 

They were not as detailed but they were portable. Some contained annotations from where her tutor had made notes during his exploration and research.

Once they were equipped, Bronn and Vers climbed to the top of the dome on the Temple of the Supremor. The priests inside were not enthusiastic about the proposed excursion, but could do little to disobey their Grand Princess.

From the top she could see a lot of the inner citadel, yet the palace complex blocked the view to the east, and the walls obscured the market place and other key areas to the northwest. Bronn pointed out the sea wall and the rampants which linked to the interior wall. 

It was heavily fortified, easily defended and would be hard to conquer. However, once conquered, it could be easily used to separate the city, and with the sea gates open, a direct link to the palace. But that was where most of the men were currently located, defending the position on both sides.

The ice cold wind cut through her and stung her eyes. Her gown, whilst warm for the street level, was not designed to keep her warm at this height. She missed her old clothes, most of which had slowly disappeared over the course of her time in the palace. As there was little to do about it, she closed her eyes, and tried to clear her mind. Bolstering herself against the wind.

What did these people want? Where would they attack given the chance? Images from her dream came to her mind's eye; the bodies, the burning buildings. The smoke billowing into the air through the haze around her.

“Has the city been attacked before? Placed under siege or invaded?” she asked Bronn

“Not since the Emperor took the throne. In the time of Oleg the first, when the Empire and city was still young, there were invaders. Rivals to his claim. And so the sea gate and wall was built. That was the limit of the city at the time. It has grown since, with outer walls, check points and towers were built to protect some of those areas.”

“But the inner citadel is still the most heavily fortified?”

“Yes. It was the fortifications of the original city.” confirmed Bronn 

“Then why is the market on the outside?” she wondered. Markets were the central places within cities. If the wall surrounded the original city, why was there no market inside?

“Emperor Oleg’s distrust of others was legendary. Perhaps he didn't trust the traders enough to let them in?” Bronn offered. He did not sound convinced, so he must not have known the truth of it.

It meant that there was now very little reason for most of the people to be inside the walls. All Vers could see within the walls were military buildings, the Great Library, the Temple, the Palace and a variety of smaller buildings.

“What exactly is within the citadel?” the entire city was designed around it, what was deemed so important other than the Emperor and their God?

Bronn confirmed her theory, only the military and the ministers were within the fortifications. The smaller buildings were houses belonging to either the ministers, or to the servants and workers supporting the occupants.

“And where are you stores? For grain and water?”

"The springs from the mountains lead directly to the palace, and the fountain near the library. It's where we get fresh water. The food comes directly from the market, and the storage there.” he informed her.

The market outside the walls.

“We have similar stocks around the city at the smaller markets. Not everyone can get to the main square, Hæla is just too grand” his voice swelled with pride.

“But what if the market had to be closed or had no traders? What then?” she asked curiously

Bronn laughed, the idea that no traders would come to Hæla was preposterous. 

"Not if there is a siege?” it was a necessary reminder of their current predicament. The man sobered.

“There has not been a siege in decades. I'm not sure what we would do.”

They had become complacent with their power, just like Xandar had behind their walls. She could see that now, it might be their downfall if they were not careful.

Vers looked out over the sprawling metropolis. It was huge, where would they even start?

She closed her eyes once again and tried to focus on her task, imagine she was indeed a foreign invader wishing to cause harm. It was not too hard to imagine.

This was not her home, this was enemy territory. A city ripe for the taking. She imagined Yulia sitting on her throne, with the cold hearted eyes of her son, judging everyone around her. Laughing at their misfortunes, spying and manipulating. An enemy who she would gladly sacrifice to the Gods given a moment's chance.

She imagined the lost misguided souls, flocking to the building below her. A cold, cavernous place where no gods roamed. Just men chanting strange songs and burning incense that stung her nose. There was no light there, no glory of their God. Just cruel men, misguiding desperate people to worship a star which could lead them to the divine. If they limited how they lived in this life, to not sin.

_ Sin _. This was such a strange and foreign concept to her. She had been lectured on it repeatedly. It just seemed like a way to remove the fun and joy of life by grumpy old men who had a distaste for living.

If she could, she would gift this city to the Gods of the Aesir. New ground for them to play on, new people for them to greet and love. The songs that would be sung about the great and mighty Vers, conqueror of Hæla and its one true God. She smiled to herself. 

Maybe she should join the Thanosians? She didn't exactly owe these people anything. If there was another way to get her people food and supplies she would take it.

An extra strong and icy gust of wind, blasted them, nearly knocking her off her feet. She stumbled into Bronn who also struggled a little, but held her upright until it passed. 

Was that mere coincidence or a warning? She saw not why her gods should care about the lives of these non believers, why shouldn't she consider her options? No-one here had exactly shown her genuine kindness, so why should she be loyal to this city?

Another gust of wind cut through her, yet at her side Bronn did not seem affected.

Okay, message received. No siding with the Thanosians, not yet at least. She glanced heavenward at the mottled grey clouds covering the sky. Light peaked in between the clouds, their outline glowing with amusement. How could anyone not believe in her gods when the signs were there, clear as day?

She rounded the dome, wanting to escape the wind, and look over more of the city. As high as they were, she still couldn't see everything she wanted to. Why did this city have to be so big?

“Are you sure this is the highest point?” she raised her voice to carry over the wind.

“Any higher and you would be a bird.” jested Bronn. She smiled at the idea, were flight within her power she would soar as high as she could and see the far reaches of the world. Oh the adventures she would have. She’d be a hawk and hunt rabbits as her prey, and never be caught or tamed.

Her mind flitted to the image of Yon holding out his arm like a falconer, waiting for a golden bird to land and perch upon his leather glove. She saw him stroke the feathers on its chest. He would care for such a creature well. She supposed if she had to be caught she wouldn't mind being caught by him, at least she’d be less inclined to scratch his eyes out.

If she were a bird, she could easily spy over the city. See every nook and cranny, nest on top of one of the buildings, or even high up in the mountains.

The mountains… The mountains had caves which overlooked the city. The old man from the boat had told her so, in one of his stories. He had even hinted at how to get there. 

Vers accosted Bronn, and started to dig through the satchel which hung across his body. Inside were the maps of the city. She rummaged through until she found the one she was looking for. Her gloved fingers shook with the cold and she fumbled as she rolled it out completely. She scanned the city scape before her, trying to match it to the map in her hands.

Bronn watched her with open curiosity, unsure of what she was looking for.

“Where is that fountain you mentioned?” she asked him, hurriedly searching between the map and skyline.

Bronn pointed over the buildings towards the library. “Over yonder, between the library and the StarKree barracks.”

Vers found the matching point on the scroll, and traced her fingers over an invisible path. She walked with haste around the dome, looking for a marker in the landscape around her. “...there.”

“Where?” Bronn was confused as to what she was looking for.

Vers scrunched up the scroll and headed towards the stairs that had bought them to the roof. She hastily retreated inside and downwards. Bronn’s considerable height and build, meant he was slower to maneuver through the narrow passage, he could not keep her pace as he tried to follow her. He had been ordered to protect her as much as help her. If she ran off and he lost her, he would never live down the humiliation of failing his friend and Prince. 

He called out to her in an attempt to slow her down “Where are you going? Slow down before you break your neck… or I break mine.”

A warm laugh floated up to meet him, followed by words he never expected “How do you feel about climbing a mountain?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My goodness where to start? Well it has been a heck of a year.
> 
> So when I first started this fic, it was supposed to be no more than 6 chapters long, but has since then taken on a life of its own.
> 
> It was originally a gift fic as part of a christmas exchange, but over christmas I wasn't feeling very festive. The complete opposite actually. I had found out some devastating news and did not have the emotional capacity to write something christmassy. At the time I felt as bereft and betrayed as Vers did in the first chapter. I could do nothing with all my feelings but write them down and attempt to work through them. Out popped the first paragraph (which is exactly how I felt at the time), then chapter 1, and then a few other scenes which could be loosely tied together to make a story. All of these were completed over the christmas break; you’ve already seen most of them through chapters 1 to 5, the confession in chapter 7, and three more are coming up before chapter 20.
> 
> But these were all too vague to be a story, more of a tableau, so when I started to bridge them together, all these other characters appeared with their own desires and devious plans, and 6 chapters had turned into 10, with many more to come. 
> 
> This chapter, or more specifically the chapter which is now chapter 11 as I just wrote too much, gave me the biggest trouble as I knew it needed to be pivotal to the story, but I had nothing more actually planned in terms of direction. Filling in the gaps to bridge it to the next prewritten scene wasn't enough anymore. 
> 
> So I tried to sit and actually plan a direction and end game for the story - I'm not entirely there yet but I'm no longer wandering around blind. Then just in the midst of me doing so, a trifecta of crap happened (eviction, job loss and potential deportation) and so I had no mental or emotional capacity to continue. All of this during a global pandemic. 
> 
> But I'm better now, I found a new place to live, I found another job, my visa conditions are valid again so I can finally stop panicking and listen to these characters and do them justice. I'm still not happy with the throne scene in Chapter 11, and frankly I don't think I ever will be happy, but if I don’t publish it now, I'm never going to. 
> 
> I have gone back and fine tuned the previous chapters, so maybe I’ll come back later to it too?


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yon struggles during his council session

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to CaptainCinderBella for Beta'ing for me, especially after I struggled with this for so long.

Before attending council Yon had checked in on his Grandfather. The Emperor's condition had improved. Whilst he still did not wake, his fever had broken and the man did not look so deathly. It was good news indeed. 

Yon had found his aunts holding vigil over their father. It was a somber sight, but they were doing what they could, what they _ should _ in this time.

His aunt Yulia had made a point to enquire about the whereabouts of Vers. As she too, should be holding vigil alongside the other women of the family.

He had advised his Aunt that just like the day before, he had given Vers permission to become more familiar with the city and its inhabitants. With the hope that the familiarity would breed an understanding of their people and their ways, especially in this solemn time.

It was not entirely false, but he knew the whole truth was unnecessary. The family need not question his decisions. It was not their place; although he knew his Aunt would judge regardless. She was displeased, voicing her opinion that the most informative way for Vers to learn her place was with familial guidance. Yon had understood the real reason for her desire to have Vers present, he had not forgotten the need to have Vers apologise properly to the Princess Yulia, as recompense for her acting out.

Whatever apology he could barter from Vers, would be half hearted and most likely result in more arguments, this time by their Emperor’s bedside. If he could delay the inevitable, even by a day or two, he could focus on more urgent topics. Allowing the headstrong Vers to ‘assist’ would give everyone some much needed space in this trying time.

Whilst he doubted anything of substance would come from today's excursion, he hoped that it would appease her wildness. That if she felt she was contributing in a meaningful way, she could stomach the necessary situation of being subject to the requirements of court life.

One could not simply saddle a wild horse and expect to ride it without it bucking. He had no wish to break her, but she needed to adjust into her role. Preferably without injuring anyone in the process. He had kept up her training for this precise purpose. A modicum of freedom to enjoy before settling in to being his wife and Queen.

He had always assumed he would be sidled with some simpering foreign princess. One who knew what was to be expected of her, to quietly sit and do as she was bid. One he had hoped would be pretty, so he did not mind when she warmed his bed to conceive his heirs. He had hoped, in his heart, that over time they could come to genuinely care for each other as his aunt and uncle had. His own mother and father had the fortune, or misfortune, of falling in love, and look at where that weakness had led them. 

He had never been so foolish to think he would be so fortunate. The best he could hope for was congeniality and respect. For them each to play their parts, and to play them well, without the need for added guidance. He never expected… well… Vers.

She was as dangerous as she was spirited. Her continued defiance to conform reflected as badly on him as it did her. Yet she was smart, if she could understand that conforming ensured her survival he was sure she would do so. He just didn't wish to scare her into it. He also didn't want to be called to replace her.

If she were his second or even third wife, perhaps her willfulness would be overlooked. Yet, alas, she was not. As attracted to her wild spirit as he was, he was beginning to wish she was a little more meek and did what she was told. However, she wasn't and so he needed to adapt his strategy to ensure success.

Always the strategist and commander, even in his marital bed. It was getting exhausting.

As childish as the antics of the women in his life were, they seemed to pale in comparison to that of his ministers. Had they always been this petty? Or was he more acutely aware now he was the intended audience of such behaviour?

How had his Grandfather chosen these fools? Let alone put up with them? He was forced to listen to them bicker and claw for a little more power.

"We cannot sit idly by whilst war is upon us!" Shouted one, unhappy with the situation.

They all were, Yon included. 

They were scared. War was upon them, and it was a fickle beast. It was easier to handle when abroad. Foreign enemies on foreign soil allowed for more control of his people's morale, the threat was at a distance. But with a threat looming in the shadows, poised to strike at any moment, it meant fear was ever present.

“Let the Xandarians burn, what have they ever done for us?” another's voice added to the chorus.

“We must look to our own interests, protect the Empire's borders. Strengthen ourselves in this time of crisis and come out victorious. Expand into the south, with our allies in the east and the Caucuses we could gain more ground into Persia." Called Boctok, the minister of the Caucasus region. 

"And what of the west? of Europe? The Pope will send aid, and if they liberate the Byxandarians, what is to stop them from marching on us next? We should strengthen our positions there." suggested another advisor

"If we push into Byxandarian land, they will see us as an enemy alongside the Thanosians. We would face 3 enemies not 1." reasoned Minister Rasmysh

"We must act now before it is too late!". Shouted Vyneshy, the minister of the outer reaches of Hæla. His concerns and anger were the most prominent, it would be his territories which would be first exposed to any oncoming army wanting to invade the city.

"And what would you propose?" Demanded Minister Rasmysh.

“We must look to our own safety first! Search for the traitors in our midst! Knock down every door until the suspects are found and caught!" Vyneshy declared. Arguments and agreements rang out from the group.

Yon's voice was calm yet menacing. "I have said this before and I will not tolerate repeating myself again, I will not make an enemy of our own people. I will not drag them from their homes nor cast them from this city as was done before." He needed to keep a level head. He was tempted to raise his voice over the din of the others, but shouting would only escalate things further.

In his grief at the loss of his son and heir, his Grandfather had 'purged' the city of traitors and anyone suspected of having harboured them. Yon had often felt his Grandfather had done more damage to Hæla than the Thanosians rebels themselves. Yet he was the Emperor and his word was law. 

For 10 long years the people of Hæla feared the wrath and repercussions of their Emperor. As a boy he had heard the whispers amongst the servants in the palace and the people on the streets. Most ignored the boy, not suspecting him to listen but he had. He had heard them.

Age and illness may have tempered the Emperor, but that fear of retribution still lingered with his people. It was now held for the Accusers, with Ronan becoming the bludgeoning force for the Emperor's justice. Whilst Yon disagreed with it, it seems the heavy handed approach to such problems was a comfort to the ministers.

Yon side eyed his cousin, expecting the giant of a man to disagree with his words, and yet he remained surprisingly silent.

"It has only been a few days, and reports have been confirming that the Thanosians currently have their hands full with securing Constantinople." Yon informed them. A lie but a necessary one; he needed them on his side and not blindly panicked like the day prior. 

"It will be time before they are secure enough to amass any forces to take us on in open battle. Any insurgents here would have shown themselves by now if they were strong enough to attack." he reassured the council.

"So they are here?!" cried Vyneshy once more. This caused more outcries amongst the group.

"We cannot be certain, but dragging our people from their beds would only aid their cause” chastised Yon. "We have posted more guards along the fortifications, and implemented curfews and patrols. We stand at the ready in case of any incident."

The condescending voice of Zmeya, the finance minister, cut through the cries of the others. "I, for one, would sleep better at night knowing these traitors had been caught."

Yon braced himself against the pounding that had begun in his temples. He was beginning to realise the minister seemed to have this affect on him. 

"We all would, but we do not know if any Thanosians exist within our midst." The Chancellor of State chimed in to Yon's defence. Normally the man did not comment on such topics, as he was meant to remain neutral in his role. However Yon was encouraged by the appearance of one supporter amongst the ranks.

"Then send the Accusers as we have asked; have them find out for sure." Demanded Minister Boctok once more.

Yon was becoming increasingly irritated with them. This entire ordeal was becoming repetitive; punish the people, save their own skins. They were cowards, all of them.

“And whom should they question? What good would that do? Scare away trade? Go against everything He in his Supreme Intelligence teaches? No! We need to lure them out. To out-think them like they out-thought the Xandarians." Again the Chancellor came the defence of people. Yon's respect for the man grew.

Yon had not had a chance to further consider Vers' proposal. It seemed good in theory, it was definitely unexpected. He had not considered such an idea when Vers' had mentioned it that morning, but that did not mean that it did not have merit. 

Yon was a strategist, and he disliked half formed plans. He wanted to discuss his options not with these men, but with Ronan and his own Commanders; Kœrath, Bronn and Minerva. Alas, time did not seem to be on his side.

"We hold a mass for the Emperor.” Yon hesitantly offered, not liking the hollow, sinking feeling which came when he foresaw losing control of a situation. “We section off the city, create smaller vigils to allow the people to come and pray for the health and quick recovery of our Emperor. Those who do not attend to show their love for our Holy Emperor should be considered to be questionable. The Accussors and StarKree can perform the rounds, those who linger behind or fail to attend should be noted and questioned.”

"How is that any different?" scoffed Minister Zmeya, derision clear in his voice

"It provides us a reason for our suspicion. Failure to attend is reason enough to justify such questions, not blind fear.” Yon ground out.

"This is preposterous, we don't -” started the Minister. 

“I agree with the General, I think it is an excellent idea” the calm voice of Ronan came from beside him, surprising all not only by its sudden presence but by his words. "Those loyal to the Emperor and the Empire would have no reason to miss such an occasion.”

Yon openly stared at Ronan, he was shocked. Yon never expected for his cousin to openly side with him. Perhaps he had misjudged him? Perhaps, despite the whispers and the favoritism of the council, his cousin was indeed on his side?

Regardless, Ronan's words clearly carried more weight with these men, to Yon's frustration. The caucus seemed to back down, a buzzing silence filled the room as the other's further contemplated the plan.

Yon took the opportunity to regain control "Many more details will need to be discussed with the commanders before it can be placed into effect, but do not think I am sitting idle whilst a threat looms."

No further voices spoke out on the matter, he looked at Ronan who's steely gaze seemed to stun them into silence or submission. It was only the Finance Minister who still remained on the speaker’s floor.

Yon pressed forward "Now that this is settled, perhaps we can move on to more pressing matters? We need to discuss securing our trade routes along the Silk Road in the event of a western or southern assault." Yon settled back into his grandfather’s throne. Hopefully this was the end of the matter. 

However, it seemed Zmeya had other plans. "Perhaps we should consider sending aid to our brothers in the holy city? To avoid such an outcome." the man suddenly suggested.

“_That _, Minster Zmeya, is a military matter, not one for discussion within this chamber. Trade, however, is.” Yon tried his hardest not to let his agitation overcome him. He needed to maintain his position in this clear power play.

"The people need a morale booster, a demonstration of RusKree might, to show them we will not be cowed by these thugs and heretics. It would be for the good of the people in this time of crisis" the minister continued to push the topic.

_ The good of the people _? The people he had wanted to crucify not two moments earlier?

"I will not thin our defences for a simple show of strength." asserted Yon.

"Are you sure that is the wisest course of action?" challenged Zmeya in turn.

Why must they question his authority? Has he not proven himself time and again? What would be enough for them?

"I said the topic is not up for discussion! Not only am I the General of the armed forces, but as acting emperor-” fumed Yon

_ "Acting _ emperor, not the Emperor. This is what the Empire needs, your Grandfather would know this, in his wisdom he would make this same decision.” Zmeya was purposely trying to provoke Yon, he knew this and yet he still let it affect him.

“I am not my Grandfather!” Yon ground out

“No, that is apparent” The minister affirmed, making Yon’s blood boil.

“This topic is not up for discussion with the caucus! The Emperor often made these decisions without your counsel and in this instance I intend on doing the same. It is getting late, and since you cannot seem to focus on the topics at hand, I call for us to adjourn and reconvene tomorrow.” Yon commanded, standing to tower over them all.

“For the good of all RusKree!” he stated, dismissing them before he decided to give into the temptation of beheading them.

* * *

After retrieving supplies, including warmer furs, the unlikely duo made their way up the mountains which cradled the city of Hæla. Vers had followed the stream on the maps from the fountain, and had identified the closest gate in the city wall to leave from so they could trace their course into the rocky hillside. Between the notes from her tutor and the story the old man on the ship had told her, she guessed where the old cave should be hidden. 

The journey was steep but she was used to the mountains of her home land, and the exercise kept them warm. The terrain of the mountains only blocked some of the harsh winds. Winter had settled over Hæla and climbing the mountains in such weather could pose a danger, yet Vers was always up for the impossible.

Close to where she thought the source of the city's springs were, they began to spot cave openings of various sizes. They were long abandoned by humans, she guessed the animals now used them. She wondered what they might come across. Hopefully there were not any bears up here.

As they climbed, the view of the city and valley grew. They rounded a rocky outcrop and found a cave with a wide opening, they huddled inside to avoid the wind shear.

“I didn't know these were here, and I've lived here for over half my life,” Bronn remarked, voicing his disbelief that she knew what she was doing.

“This is where the original settlers would come to hide when the winters were too cold or they were under attack. It was from here they saw the valley and decided to build the city on the water's edge.” Vers proudly informed him, condensing the enthralling story she had listened to.

“How do you know that?” Bronn asked in surprise.

“A kindly old man told me.” Vers grinned cheekily at her kinsman, as she looked out at the valley, where she could see everything.

This is what she needed. She proceeded to remove the scrolls from the satchel and placed them on the ground. With Bronn's help, and a few stones, they arranged a basic outline of the city.

As she looked out across the water, taking a moment to soak it all in, Bronn wandered a little further into the shelter they had found. The wind had swept the dirt away from the mouth of the cave so Bronn moved in further to where he could find signs of life. 

He noticed small bones scattered on the ground close to the walls, they were covered in dirt and decay. The meal of a small predator, like a cat or wild dog. He slowly let his eyes adjust to the dark, more details coming into view as he concentrated on the shadows around him. 

His foot kicked a stone as he walked, yet instead of skittering to a stop across rocky ground as expected, it plopped into a mound of dirt. Bronn bent and inspected the pile. It wasn't dirt but ash. 

Someone had made a fire in the cave, for either light or warmth. Bronn scooped up the debris and sifted it through his fingers. It was suspiciously clean of dirt and stones; particulates he would expect from a long abandoned fire. No, this fire had burnt recently, perhaps weeks or even days ago. It seemed the Princess was not the only person who knew of the caves.

Deeper exploration would require torch light, and if this cave had been used recently, he would prefer to bring more men to see if he could find out who its occupants might be. Perhaps they may even return.

Bronn set the stone back into place, and righted the scene as best he could, so it did not look disturbed. He returned to the Princess who still stood in the mouth of the cave. He watched her silhouette in the contrasting light, he had to admit she cut a lovely figure. Yon was a lucky man. 

She was fierce, and smart as a whip; a credit to their people. It was a shame that she would be wasted here, yet it seems that Yon was putting her to good use. Seeing more in her than just a simpering bride to warm his bed. 

Under different circumstances, Bronn would have liked to have fought alongside such a shield maiden. Perhaps if he were 30 years younger, and not madly in love with his own wife, he would have tried to ask for her himself. Although he suspected even at the young age of twenty-something he still would not have been able to keep up with her.

Vers contemplated the landscape before her. It was one thing to take the city, it would be another to hold it. The city had inadvertently been partitioned. It had not been planned, but was due to natural expansion and growth. At its core stood the citadel which was in essence the original settlement. Over time it had been repurposed to only hold the buildings essential to the running of the Empire. 

Outside the partitioning wall and sea gate sat the commerce portion of the city. The market with its vendors, butchers, bakers, millers; the life blood of the city, lined the streets that wound towards the docks at the water’s edge. 

The docks themselves were plentiful, they stretched along the shore of the lake as far as the eye could see, and stopped before the grand outer gate. 

The grand outer gate and wall, stood before the mouth of the river on the bank opposite the defensive towers of the east outpost. She knew from her journey that the river was lined with houses and farms.

Most of the people of Haela lived in the second section and beyond. You would need to make your way through to get to the citadel and the Temple. If the gates closed, and the wall held, the inner sanctum would be impenetrable. 

If you managed to breach through the gate, the city held enough narrow passages and junctions that could be defended to protect the palace. A last stand within the walls could still hold a decent defence. The place was a labyrinth; which could work to confuse an enemy, or if handled improperly, could mean the enemy might be able to slip past blockages and approach from behind.

She conferred with Bronn about what the defense strategy would be if the wall was breached. How would they hold the palace? Where would they barricade? He provided his suggestions, but as she suspected Yon and Ronan as the commanders would have the final say. 

It was a solid plan for defence, but only worked if there was time for mobilisation. Time which they would only have if the walls and gates were the first target. He reminded her that she’d only been asked to provide comments on weaknesses in their defences not in their strategy.

She silently nodded her head in agreement, too consumed in thought to care about the insult. She had been wrong, a vigil would not work. It would risk bringing people too close to the palace, flooding the labyrinth and would risk losing ground to the chaos of an outbreak in street fighting. Unless men were already stationed at key junctions, there would be little time to respond otherwise. Whilst a heavily guarded vigil would send more messages of fear and suspicion than hope to the people.

Even so, intruders could still not be guaranteed a victory over slaughter. Not when there was a far simpler way to tople this empire.

If she wanted to take Hæla, she simply needed to starve them out.

She collected the parchment guides, brushing off small stones and dirt that had stuck to the underside. She winced out of guilt as some of the dirt smudged the surface, perhaps she should have been more careful with these? Her tutor had handed them to her with such reverence, as if they had been new born babes, and here she had just thrown them on the ground without a care. She wasn't used to caring about other people’s things. She guessed that needed to change.

They began to descend the mountain, hoping to reach the bottom before the short winter's day disappeared. She needed to talk to Yon, they needed to change their plan and prepare for a siege properly. She wouldn't starve inside these walls due to Rus hubris.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A vigil is held for the Emperor

Her knees hurt. Even with the layers of skirts and the plush cushion she knelt on, her knees still somehow ached.

There was a cold which seeped up through the stone ground and permeated deep into her bones, in a way not even ice nor snow could.

The cavernous room of the Temple kept no heat, despite the mass of bodies and candles. Vers glanced around in an attempt to observe the others. From what she could see no one else seemed to be in discomfort. They, too, knelt in attendance; some hung their heads in silent reverence, others listened attentively to the priests and the foreign chanting. 

She thought she was being subtle, trying not to draw attention to herself, yet she had been unsuccessful. Amber eyes bore into her own, full of warning and disapproval, when she had glanced his way. He had caught her from the corner of his eye. He must still be mad at her.

Chastised she returned her gaze to the men in front of her. However it was not long before her mind wandered once more. She reflected on nothing in particular, simply letting sensations wash over her as she stared at the dust floating in the sunlight above the Star of the Supreme. A sudden pinch to the softening flesh of her side had her flinching away. Yulia had taken to chastising her this time, and the woman was far less subtle.

Vers glowered at the woman, if Yulia tried so again, Vers would not hesitate to impale the meddling wench’s hand with the hairpin up her sleeve. She felt the heat from Yon's body as he leaned closer to her.

"This was your idea, at least pretend to play along." He whispered to her. The undercurrent of hostility in his voice confirmed he was indeed still mad.

This may have been her idea, but she hadn't expected to be kneeling all damn day. She supposed she would have to get used to it. She should spend her time thinking of creative ways of avoiding these events in the future.

Besides, if anyone deserved to be mad, it was her. Why was _ this _the idea he listened to, yet he completely refused to heed her advice about the market and food supplies? She couldn't understand him sometimes; he claimed to respect her as a warrior but not heed her opinion on the subject. How could he be so contradictory? 

It was almost as if he was two different people, and it was oft a gamble which one she would get. The Yon she knew in his quiet moments, and Yon, the arrogant protector of Hæla, who knew better than the others. Yon the man, and Yon the prince. The two never seemed to occupy the same space.

Perhaps that was it? Perhaps the man underneath chafed as much at his role as she did? Looking at him now, she doubted it. Or maybe she had simply misjudged him all this time. Perhaps he was merely as selfish and manipulating as she had originally thought when she had first learnt his secret? That their time together had caused her to become complacent with him?

If she was honest with herself, It didn't really matter. If he chose to ignore her, then so be it. She would be surviving this even if the others didn't.

When she had returned from her scouting mission with Bronn, Yon was agitated. It rolled off him in waves, and she had noticed the clenching of his jaw when she enquired what was wrong. He hadn’t been pacing around their rooms, which was his usual behaviour in such moments. So she had assumed, wrongfully, that he wasn't terribly upset and had proceeded to divulge her findings, and her remedies for the woeful lack of foresight in the city’s design.

She wasn’t sure what exactly had set him off, perhaps it was questioning his predecessors or invoking the collective Council, but he had turned on her. He never raised his voice, he didn't need to. The cold, belittling look in his eyes was enough as he admonished her. _ Learn your place. _ Three little words that cut her to the core. She flinched at that more than she would have his fist. She had thought she had seen a flash of regret cross his features, but he had turned and walked away from her. He dismissed her, bade her to join his aunts in prayer and to eat with them.

She’d sought out Natasha instead, and after some wine and supper, had slept on the cushions in the girls’ room. If Natasha suspected her reasoning for not returning to her own chambers, the woman did not make it known. Neither did her sister. Yelena had provided Vers with a fresh gown, and suggested that next time Vers was “too tired” to venture back to her own quarters, Vers should simply crawl in and share with her instead of the cold uncomfortable sitting area. It was kind of her, and Vers joked that the sitting area was a luxury compared to the cold ground when she had been on raids.

Vers had vowed in that moment, that no matter what happened, she’d get both these women out and to safety should a siege befall them. Or perhaps sooner? Her reasons for staying were dwindling, why should the three of them stick around?

The people in the room around her shifted. She had been daydreaming again and was caught off guard. Yon had stood from his position next to her. Thankfully, or unfortunately, the ridiculous traditional dress and heavily beaded head-garb weighed her down enough that her movements were stilted. So when Yon offered his arm to assist her to her feet, no one suspected her hesitation in rising was due to inattention.

The vigil was over, and it was time to leave. As part of the trap, the royal household would be the first to depart. This was normal protocol, however this time they were prepared for the worst. Yon had insisted she carry a few small weapons hidden in the folds of her attire. 

She had wanted a dagger strapped to her wrist for easy access, however the cuffed sleeves not only hindered its removal but also made its presence obvious. She instead opted for her thin hairpin. She’d have preferred it in her braids, but her hair was bound in dark silk and wrapped tightly under a shawl and the beaded kokoshnik. There would be no accessing without the help of the maids.

As they slowly proceeded down the aisle of the Temple towards the entrance, both she and Yon were on alert. She could feel how tense he was as he walked beside her, scanning the sombre faces of the crowd for a sudden threat. Most of the common people were outside the Temple, lining the streets. This is where any attack would likely occur. As they passed the doorway, she noticed Bronn fall in line behind his Commander and Prince. A not so subtle guard, but nothing too obvious. Unlike the sudden presence of both Accusers and Družyna forming a barrier between them and the crowd, keeping the street to the Palace clear for their return. 

Vers rolled her eyes. 

If they were wanting to quietly smoke out any traitors, this was not the best way to go about it. 

* * *

He should have been relieved. Nothing in their plan had gone wrong. However the unexpected presence of the Accusers in the square outside the Temple, when they should have been throughout the city, had left him on edge.

That had not been his orders. Was it oversight or purposeful? He was still unsure. He had waited with Ronan in the war room of the Accusers’ Great Hall for the return of his men to report their findings. He had asked his cousin in that quiet moment, but the man claimed uncertainty. Ronan had been present at the vigil, accompanying his mother in their prayer. No orders could have been conveyed by him during those hours, so it was assumed that a few returning men had simply taken the initiative to support the managing of the crowd.

It was not an urgent quandary, not as urgent as the results of their investigations.

Results which were frustratingly benign.

Mostly the sickly, weak, and elderly had not been in attendance. A few birthing mothers and midwives were also found, as well as a few recently arrived foreigners and traders who claimed to be unaware of the event. The newcomers were being questioned further.

Yet overall, the entire event was, well, uneventful. 

So why could Yon not shift this foreboding feeling?

Was this not what they were after? Proof that his people and his city were safe from a threat from within?

The Council seemed relieved at this news and presently urged him to move forward in military matters. They wanted a show of force. They wanted their chance to take the Thanosians head on, to either liberate Constantiople or expand the Empire’s borders as the spoils.

Yon knew from experience it would take them 6 days by ships, over 12 by foot. They did not possess the ships required to move the numbers needed in such a short time. They would need to split their troops. The thought made him uneasy. 

This was not the first time they had employed such a tactic. He had used it moons ago when they had wanted to occupy the lands past the Caucasus mountains. They had split their legions and had defeated the local tribes with a pincer approach; half by foot from the north, the remaining via the west from the shores of the Black sea.

The same could be done just as easily to Constantinople.

Yet, for reasons unclear to him, he was hesitant. He had prayed upon it at the vigil, in addition to the return of his Grandfather’s health. He had asked the Supremor for guidance in this matter, but all he was left with was uncertainty and the feeling it would be a mistake.

Yon was a man of facts, evidence, however it was an intangible feeling which now drove him. His instincts were screaming at him that this was not the right strategy. But instinct alone was not enough to hinge the future of the Empire on.

“My Lord, will you please, _ please, _ reconsider sending troops to Xandar?” pleaded the Minister of the Outer Reaches.

Yon loathed to blindly acquiesce to these men, so he managed as much of a diplomatic, non-committal answer as he could “In light of the recent outcome, I will ponder further on the matter and take private counsel from the Generals to the best course of action if required.”

“In my humble opinion my lord - ” the man began again.

Yon cut the man off before he was forced to listen to idle conjecture. “Your humble opinion, whilst not unwelcomed on most matters, is not necessary for concerns outside the realm of your expertise.” 

"Is it a prideful aversion to opinions or specifically ours? Perhaps you would prefer to consult the mystics or the crone? Instead of the wisdom of learned men blessed by his Supreme Intelligence?" the insidious voice of Zmeya grated on his nerves, even before Yon comprehend what they man inferred.

_ How dare he? _

Just as Yon was to bite back his reply, the Princess Yulia briskly walked through the door. As a woman, she was not welcomed in the Council session nor permitted to interrupt. Whatever had bought her here must be grave in deed. As Yon rose from the throne, dread pooled low in his stomach. He feared her next words, mourning the loss of their patriarch already.

“Speak “ he commanded, preparing for the worse.

With tears in her eyes, she uttered “The Emperor is awake.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Emperor wakes.

When the procession returned to the Palace, Vers had little choice but to join the other women as they attended to the Emperor's bedside. 

Yon had effectively abandoned her in the entry hall, departing immediately with Ronan once they were away from the prying eyes of the crowd. Not a moment after his arm had dropped hers, she had felt the surprisingly firm grasp of the Princess Yulia, tugging her forward, leaving no room for argument. There would be no more avoiding her duties in this instance.

Vers was once again forced to sit quietly, whilst the other's prayed. Or sobbed in the case of some of the younger women. Vers found these women small and sad - pathetic would be too strong a sentiment. She couldn't understand why they cried so? He was old, and only their Emperor, he couldn't have sired all of them. He had lived a long life and would soon be joining their God in their heaven. Noone in her people’s tribes would cry over their King, nor even their Jarl. 

Vers considered for a moment, what it would be like if this was Talos on his deathbed. Like F’ury, the man had been like a father to her. He was father to all her people. She would be sad, even shed a tear or two, just as she had for her own father, but not a sobbing mess. If anyone deserved to cry, it should be Yulia, the man was her father after all.

The princess Yulia was a calm and unmoving pillar in the midst of the emotional unrest. Vers watched her, as the woman knelt next to her father. Ever vigilant, ever the devoted daughter.

The princess held herself with a bearing Vers envied. Even in her grief she was graceful and regal. 

Vers hadn’t expected the woman to cry, she was fairly certain the princess had no heart. Yet Vers could tell she was pained by her father’s state. There was a sadness to her. Even as she kneeled, back straight, hand clasped together, silent prayers falling from her lips, Vers could feel her grief pouring from her.

Vers’ thoughts drifted to Yon; whilst these women spent hours here, wallowing in their grief and despair, he was forced to take charge. His days had become longer, he seemed more exhausted, with hardly any time for himself. When would he have the chance to mourn, to grieve and be sad about his grandfather? Only when the man was dead? After? Ever?

This man before her was a stranger to Vers, she did not care for him. But others did, others, whom she had begun to care for in her own way, cared deeply for the husk of a man lying in front of her. His fate was tied to theirs. This perpetual state of constant uncertainty was causing more pain to those around her, than if the man was simply dead.

Not even Yulia deserved this.

Vers closed her eyes, the collective prayers of those around did not seem to be working. She knew they prayed for the return of his health. Vers doubted that was possible, she didn't think that was a miracle their lone God could accomplish, but, maybe if there were other gods listening?

Would the gods of the Aesir save the life of this non believer? Vikings embraced death, they didn’t shy from it. She doubted her gods would grant the gift of life to one so old.

Nevertheless, Vers began to pray. Not for the man before her, but for those he was leaving behind. She prayed for Yon, for Yulia, for the sobbing women and their sorrow. She prayed for an end to this madness, for their wait to be swiftly over so they would not be forced to continue in this living death. She prayed it would not be too painful for them, that they would find comfort and peace in whatever was next for him.

As she did so, Vers felt a slow warmth caress her skin. It seeped into her bones, chasing away the chill she still felt from the Temple. It felt like an embrace. One she had not felt for a long time. She lost herself to the sensation, bathing in the comfort it bought her.

Vers was unsure of how long she sat basking in the feeling. Yet it was not long enough before the feeling subsided. She was bought back to the present by a series of gasps and murmurs around the room.

She opened her eyes when she heard someone clear their throat. She was certain she was about to be reprimanded for nodding off, and braced herself for the glare Yulia was no doubt sending her way.

Yet what Vers saw was honestly a surprise. Yulia was leaning over the Emperor’s bedside, clutching his hand and speaking low to him. At first Vers was overcome with heartache for her, watching as she no doubt said her last goodbyes at his passing. But then Vers realised his eyes were open and he was nodding at whatever Yulia spoke to him.

He was awake.

As Vers stared in shock at this sudden turn in events, the room burst into a flurry of motion. The other women started flying into action, some brought water, others brought tinctures or blankets for the Emperor. Some lit more candles, whilst a few continued to pray in joy. Vers thought she heard someone mention a healer. 

Vers stood slowly, unsure of what to do. She approached the foot of the bed, keeping a distance to be respectful to his children who had swarmed on him. Vers mostly couldn’t believe what she was seeing. 

Quickly Yulia stood from her father’s bedside, she kissed his hand once more before turning to leave. Vers thought she noticed tears in the older woman’s eyes, but it must have been a trick of the candle light. The Princess left quickly, most likely to deliver the news herself to someone. Possibly Yon. Vers felt a little hurt that Yulia had not asked her to accompany her, Vers would have liked to have been there for Yon as he heard the news. Even if they were still angry with one another.

Vers was at a loss of what to do. She stood there at the Emperor’s bedside, an awkward interloper on a touching reunion. Silently ignored as the others crouched and fawned over the man.

unexpectedly, his eyes found hers and looked at her strangely. Vers was uneasy under his gaze. She turned to look away from him as she heard others enter the room. First a pair of healers, a priest and then Yon, the Princess, Ronan, and an entourage of ministers.

Vers perked up at the sight of Yon, his face awash with both disbelief and relief at sight of the Emperor. Yon crossed the room and approached his grandfather’s bedside. The women scattered in his wake. He spared them no glance. Nor did he seem to look at her.

The small smile she didn’t even realise she had worn dropped, and she stepped away with the other women. This was not her place. She moved to stand by the Princess Yulia, but halted when she heard Yon speak.

“You all may go.” he commanded the room.

The other women bowed and began to leave as they were told. Vers turned to Yulia to take her cue. The princess also moved to leave, and so Vers followed.

Before she walked through the doorway, she felt eyes on her back. She turned hoping it was Yon, instead it was the Emperor as he gazed past Yon. His eyes flicked back to his grandson, as the healers were motioned to approach.

Vers sighed and left.

* * *

  
  


Yon was astounded. Whilst he had hoped for his grandfather’s health to return, he had doubted it would happen.

Yet it had, and on today of all days.

Once the healers, the priests and even the chancellor had taken their leave, Yon was finally alone with his grandfather.

As time wore on, his grandfather had improved. Colour returned to his cheeks and he seemed more alert, although far from his usual self.

Ronan had stayed as they both explained the situation at hand; the fall of Constantinople, the potential Thanosian incursion within their own capital. Their efforts to discover any plot within the great city had not yet been fruitful. The Emperor had listened intently, but reserved any commentary or criticism on the matters. He only asked a few questions, mostly in clarification. Yon knew it might be too much for someone who had just awoken from a sickness slumber.

When they were done, Ronan too took his leave. Now it was just Yon.

He sat by the bedside in wonder at how such a miracle could happen.

The Emperor had instructed the Chancellor that until he was able to return to the council chamber, Yon was to remain in authority.

Yon was torn at such a statement, in fact Yon had many mixed feelings about the entire situation. He was elated that the Emperor held him in such esteem to continue, he was also glad he could finish handling the current situation. Yet in turn, Yon was also disappointed, his time had been too brief and before long he would be back to waiting in the wings. Any progress he had made with gaining the respect of the council would be eroded with time. 

Yon was not oblivious to the knowledge that to continue in such a way would mean wishing ill on his grandfather; in of itself an unintentional thought of treason. He felt guilt surge within his heart. He was glad his grandfather was no longer dieing, but he would be lying if he claimed a little part of him wasn't disappointed the opposite had not happened.

It was such a complicated situation, to be the living embodiment of a person’s replaceability. Yon had never felt it so acutely before. He wondered what his grandfather thought as the man watched him.

“You're upset I’m not dead.” his grandfather stated simply, voicing the inner turmoil of Yon’s mind.

“No, my Emperor. I would never…” Yon felt himself pale.

The Emperor waived him off. “Nonsense, I know you are. Even if it's only a little bit. I was when I was in your position. It's natural.” 

Yon felt frozen, both exposed and unseen at the same time. 

The Emperor smiled a wolfish grin “I jest boy. I know you mean no ill will, I’m just tired of staring at your frown.”

Yon tried a small smile, before drifting back into thought for a few more quiet moments.

“How do you do it?” Yon asked the older man. “How do you handle the council’s stupidity and in fighting? You always made it so easy. But I suppose you have their respect whilst I do not.” Yon mused.

The Emperor chuckled to himself, but Yon failed to see what was funny.

“I don't have their respect; I have their fear.” the Emperor revealed.

Yon knew this was true, yet he had not expected his grandfather to be so candid regarding the fact.

“Do you know how I became Emperor?” his grandfather asked

“By overthrowing the Usurpers. Saving your father’s vision for the RusKree with the guidance of His Supreme Intelligence.” Yon repeated the story he had been told as a boy, it was a story all the children of the Empire learnt.

“Not quite,” confessed the elder in a tired voice. His strength had not completely returned.

“When I was not much older than Elreg is now, word returned to Hæla that my father, the Emperor, had been wounded in battle. He was brought back from the battlefield with an arrow through his chest, and so we knew he was not likely long for this world. My older brothers started conspiring, creating alliances, bribing ministers, vying for the chance to be the next in power. I was still a boy, I knew I stood no chance compared to the men that my brothers were. Yet I knew I could prove myself to them. 

So I went to my eldest brother, Piotr, and vowed to help him keep the throne from the others. He just laughed at me, too sure of his birthright.

Then I went to Maksim, the second, and he too laughed at me. What good was I? I was a boy. Too young. Too weak. Too foolish and unaware of how the world worked. ‘Go back and play with your dolls’ he mocked me. 

I was  _ only  _ young. Time was our only difference. I had been taught the same as them, I had trained hard, accompanied our father too. I understood his vision, and dreamed of so much more.

I went to each of them, listened to their plans. Each was so small and near-sighted. It was pathetic, none of them could see what I could see for the Empire. None of them strong enough, cunning enough to take our people and make them great. They were too weak.

Death was our way to glory. I knew what needed to be done.

Our father soon recovered, to the disappointment of my brothers. Piotr was so disappointed, he planned to kill our father anyway. To simply take the throne.”

Yon listened attentively to the story. These were not aspects he had known. He knew the story, he had known his great uncles had been treacherous, had killed their father out of greed. A plot his grandfather had uncovered and righteously rectified, saving the Empire. He had not heard his grandfather’s experience first hand though. Yon assumed that somewhere within the current retelling was a revelation or moral he needed to learn, just as his grandfather had before him.

“It was the first good idea he had in honesty,” admitted the Emperor as he began to laugh. The husky sound quickly turned to a cough, and Yon, despite his shock over the confession helped the man to some water.

When the Emperor had caught his breath, he continued, mirth still in his voice.

“So I killed him. I murdered each of them in turn, and then my father for good measure. I was the only one left. The advisors who had aligned themselves with my idiot brothers were executed for treason and I was crowned Emperor. None of them ever saw it coming. Those who were left quickly realised I was a force to be reckoned with despite my youth. 

Any disdain toward me was quickly forgotten when their coffers filled with the spoils of our wars. 

Occasionally a few would get too greedy or presumptuous. They soon found themselves hanging from the walls. Heads served to their families for dinner or even vice versa. My generosity only went so far my boy, and I always made sure to remind them so.

Their obedience, their loyalty, their… _respect_, if you must, was bought by fear. They listen and look to me to guide them because they fear the consequences if I do not.” 

Yon was shocked at this revelation. Although he could not rightly say he was surprised that his grandfather’s violence and bloodlust had been turned against his own kin so early in his life. His grandfather’s ascension had not been ordained but designed. Yon needed time to reflect on this.

“It seems you and Ronan have that in common.” reflected Yon; it seemed so much clearer suddenly. It wasn't preference, or respect for Ronan over him, but simply fear. None of them wanted to incur the wrath of the zealot Accuser.

This disheartened Yon. 

“You and I are more alike than you know my boy. It is why you are my heir. You have my ambition, my hunger for greater things. I see it burning in your eyes. You always strive to achieve excellence. It drives you, as it drove me! Even if it is tempered by your mother’s heart.”

The mention of his mother felt like a slap to the face. 

“You think I fault that as a weakness?” asked his grandfather with a shrewd eye. Something must have shown on Yon’s countenance to allude to his feelings.

The older man sighed “At a time I would have. Now...not so much. Not after losing your father. Chastising such a weakness in you, would mean denying it within myself.”

Yon remained silent, at a loss at what to say. As a child he had witnessed how bloody his grandfather had been. Yon never would have associated such action with temperance. 

“Worry not of Ronan. I put laws in place to protect your father’s line. I will not allow my legacy to end the way it started. Ronan would not dare ignore my will. I know his heart, even if you choose not to believe me. He does not wish to usurp you, he only wants what is best for the Empire and His Supreme Intelligence.” assured his grandfather.

“Besides, I won the love of the people by saving them from usurpers, they would not accept so readily a usurper in turn.” the Emperor tried to alleviate what he saw as Yon’s concerns.

It did not help, especially now Yon knew it to be a lie.

“It does not change the fact the council looks to him. What do you suggest I do? Remove him before he becomes a threat? Make an example of him? Or should I go as far as replace the entire council?” Yon retorted, his frustrations evident.

“I will have no infighting between you two! I have lost my brothers and my sons to such bloodshed, I shall not lose my grandsons too.” the Emperor commanded with a shout, and Yon knew better than to question his orders. 

They were silent for a moment, the outburst not quiet breaking the building tension, only diminishing it.

“Patience! They will come to see what I see. You are their future.” the Emperor explained plainly. Yon wished it would be that simple.

“Yes, my Emperor” Yon bowed before the bedside, and then turned to take his leave, it was getting late.

“What sustains an empire, is not just its weapons. It takes wisdom and loyalty, strategy and instinct. Ultimelty, it is  _ your  _ mind that will win the fights ahead.” the Emperor imparted calmly, his final words of wisdom before Yon departed for the evening. 

* * *

  
  


When he returned Vers was reading by the fire, practicing her Rus. When she noticed his presence, she stood and smiled a small smile at him.

“How is he?” she enquired in a soft voice. There was something about her that seemed odd, she seemed hesitant as she asked.

“Recovering it seems, although still very weak for the moment.” he moved towards his dressing area. It had been a long and draining day and he was craving the peace of sleep.

“I’m glad the gods saw fit to help then.” he heard her say.

“I too am glad that by the grace of our  _ God _ his health has returned.” he corrected

“Of course.” she ceded “what is one person’s prayers against the prayers of many?” she asked quietly to herself, as if she had no intention of him hearing.

She tentatively stepped forward, Yon watched her from the corner of his eye. This new demure behaviour was odd for her. Even after their arguments she was never hesitant around him.

“How are you feeling?” she enquired gently. Since meeting her, Yon didn't think he’d ever been asked that question so often before. She rarely talked of her own feelings, she was so very RusKree in that respect. He suspected that one didn't need to talk of their feelings when they freely expressed and experienced them. He envied her a little for that, whilst appreciating her concern for him. 

“I’m fine. Simply tired, that's all.” he answered as he continued to undress.

“Really? I would have thought with everything else happening you would be something other than ‘fine’. Not relieved? or even disappointed?” she tried to coax more from him than he cared to share. Her questions struck a nerve.

“How dare you insinuate that I would be disappointed in the health and survival of our Emperor?” her turned on her. Angry that she too would question his motives and intentions. Did no one trust him in this palace? Did they all hold him in such low regard?

“That’s not what I meant. Forget it. My apologies for overstepping your highness.” Vers bit back at him, more like her normal self. She turned and retreated, at first he thought she was returning to the fire, but she continued toward the door.

“Where are you going? It's late.” he demanded of her, his tone still brusk but not as harsh as it had been a moment before.

“To check on Elreg.” she snapped at him as she left the room.

Why was he denied peace at every turn? All he wanted was to sleep, not engage in another fight, face another person disappointed in him and his actions.

Yon continued to change, rethinking the conversation he had with his grandfather. 

He had hoped for guidance, but was left with confusion.

He did not wish to rule by fear, but was that not how they all lived?

Yon felt lost. He was weary down to his bones.

He pictured Elreg, and tried to imagine seeing the boy in the way his grandfather had seen his own brothers, as a threat or competitor. Even if others would use the boy as a puppet against him, Yon could not possibly bring himself to harm the child. He was only a child. More like a brother or son to him than an adversary. 

Yon decided he should visit the boy himself. He was unsure if the others in the palace had told him of the news, or if Vers would be the first.

As he approached the boy’s room, Yon could hear faint laughing coming from within. He slowed so he could listen and not interrupt.

“You should really go to bed.” he heard Vers softly speak to the boy.

“I know, but I’m just too happy. PLEASE can I see him?” Elreg asked with such enthusiasm, Yon could imagine the grin on his face.

“Maybe tomorrow, it's far too late, he’ll be sleeping.” Vers tried to calm the young prince.

“But all he’s done is sleep!” Elreg whined, disappointed momentarily before asking her another tentative question “Can you take me to see him tomorrow? I don't think the others will take me.” His voice was disappointed and soft. It tugged at Yon’s heart.

Yon quietly entered the room and watched as Vers reclined along the bed as Elreg sat fidgeting with a boundless energy Yon did not often see in him. He suspected the news of his father’s good health was not the sole cause.

Vers hummed, making an exaggerated attempt at considering his question.

Elreg perked up at the prospect of getting his way “Pleeeease…” he begged as he bounded over to her, prostrating himself before her

“I’ll make you deal, if you climb into bed right now, and at least pretend to try and sleep, I’ll take you to see the Emperor tomorrow. That way I’ll only be in trouble for one thing and not two. Deal?” Vers bargained with him conspiratorially.

A joyful smile lit up Elreg’s face as he scurried across the blankets and snuggled under the covers. Vers chuckled at his enthusiasm as he settled himself. Yon smiled at the scene.

Once the little prince was settled, Vers laid beside him, their heads together as they both stared up at the star motives on the ceiling.

“Can you tell me another story?” Elreg asked quietly. 

“Have I told you yet why the great Odin is one eyed?” asked Vers, not hesitating to concede to the request.

“No.” the young boy answered thoughtfully.

“Well, the great and powerful Odin is forever on a never ending quest for wisdom. The one thing Odin craves above all else, is the understanding of all of life’s mysteries. There is no price he is not willing to pay to learn all he can. Which is why he gave away his own eye.” Vers placed a hand over her right eye and made a face Elreg giggled at.

Yon watched them as she continued her story. It was far less brutal than the version he had learnt on the battlefield many moons ago. Before its end, Elreg was softly snoring and Vers simply watched him.

Yon quietly approached the bed and offered her his hand to stand. She watched him for a moment, almost surprised to see him there, before she sat up and accepted it.

They walked silently back to their room. Their minds both occupied with other things.

Once inside he halted whereas Vers continued forward. She turned when she noticed, and watched him. They looked at each other for a long moment. Just as Yon felt the courage to articulate his thoughts, she approached and wrapped her arms around him. She placed her chin on his shoulder and simply held him. He gratefully returned her embrace.

They did not speak, but just stood in silence.


	14. Chapter 14

Vers was surprised when it was Bronn who was waiting outside the library to accompany her after her lessons. She had expected another pair of sullen shadows to walk her back to the palace. Bronn was welcomed company, she was struggling with her language lessons, and craved the respite of her mother tongue.

In truth she had been distracted by the prior day’s events. She had also attempted to accompany Elreg that morning to see his father but they were turned away, although she had the suspicion that it was  _ she  _ who was turned away and not little Elreg.

“Princess.” The cheerful towering man greeted her with a bright smile on such a gloomy day.

“Commander,” she returned just as cheerfully “What are you being punished for if you have been sent to watch over me?” she jested with him.

He chuckled at her in response, “I asked for the honour, as I wanted to ask a favour of you, kin to kin.” 

His answer intrigued her, she nodded her ascent for him to continue.

“I wondered if you would do me the honour of eating with me and my family this evening?”

“Of course! I’d be honoured to meet your family. Won’t... won't we get in trouble?” she asked. Although she was not concerned by it, she doubted many commanders asked princesses to dine with them. 

“If we were not Scandi, and you were not being accompanied, I would absolutely lose my head!” he joked with her, but it did not put her concerns at ease. “It has been many years since another Scandi lived in Hæla, so I have not had many people to share our traditions with. Tonight I would like that to change.”

“Then I am glad to be here for you!” she smiled fondly at him.

“Great!” he announced as he turned to walk away from the palace and towards one of the gates between the citadel and the sprawling outer districts of Hæla.

It was not long before they stood in front of a low building outside the citadel, not far from the markets. Upon their approach she noticed a dark skinned man she recognised as the commander Korath. She smiled at the commander, assuming he was to be her chaperone, but he did not return her sentiment. Vers felt less insulted when he ignored Bronn’s cheery greeting. Korath looked like he preferred to be anywhere else.

The sounds of children drifted out from inside the home, before a small raven haired child ran out and attached themself to Bronn’s legs. Bronn proceeded to limp inside instead of removing the child.

Vers had no expectation of what a common Rus house would look like. She was ignorant of these things, as the palace and formal buildings were all she’d seen. She had, however, expected a few things from home to be present in Bronn’s. She was wrong. The house was very exotic; vases, paper lanterns, and wood furniture filled the home amongst boldly painted paneling. There was something about the house which spoke to her as being not Rus either. Her suspicions were confirmed when a woman with raven hair, and smooth features welcomed them. She was not Rus, she looked and dressed like a few of the vendor’s Natasha had explained were from the far east.

The woman’s almond shaped eyes, looking lovingly at Bronn and the small child attached to him. Vers guessed that this was his wife. Bronn had not married one of their kind, which is why he had not or could not share and celebrate their traditions. It would not be the same. She felt additionally honoured that he wanted to share something with her, although she was still at a loss for what it was he wanted to do.

Two more children came running through the room, and the woman began to chastise them in a sing-song language, her current tone was harsh to Vers’ ears.

The woman returned her attention to her guests, she bowed to Korath, whom politely returned the gesture. As she turned towards Vers, Bronn stepped in to introduce her in Norse.

“Princess, this is my beloved wife Mai, mother of my children and light of my life.” Bronn beamed as he introduced Mai. Mai bowed her head in greeting, Vers mimicking her action, noting it was a stiffer greeting than the Rus used in the palace. 

Mai motioned for Vers and the others to sit at the low table in the room. As Vers began to seat herself, the children returned still chasing one another. Mai turned and walloped them with a rag she was holding. She managed to catch the tallest one, a boy, by the ear and shook her finger at him as she once more chastised him.

Vers only smiled at the chaos. It was a refreshing and warm experience compared to the detached way the others in the palace interacted with each other. She glanced over at Bronn and Korath. Bronn was pointedly ignoring his wife and the boy in favour of extracting his leg from the small limpet that had attached itself upon arrival. Korath did not look impressed at the behaviour, although Vers was uncertain if he genuinely felt that way or if he just constantly scowled.

“Should we remove your leg above or below the knee?” Vers jested with Bronn as the small child continued to reattach themselves. 

Bronn stopped and hummed, seriously considered her question “Hmm.. I’m not sure, how about -  _ here _ ?!” he crouched and started tickling the child, who screamed and squirmed trying to avoid the sudden onslaught. The child left a small opening as they lost their grip, and surprisingly it was Korath who swept in and was successful at the end. 

“ _ Thank you friend!”  _ Bronn beamed at Korath who lightly held the giggling little girl, which Vers could now see clearly, as the old warrior took his own seat. “ _ Go find grandma”  _ he instructed the little girl, before she ran off.

It was not before food and drink was served, Bronn's wife and their grandchildren joining them for the diverse and intriguing feast. Vers noticed food from home, alongside dishes she had eaten in the palace. There were also other dishes she did not recognise, Mai explained some of them as she offered Vers a bun which looked like a fluffy cloud.

Bronn and Korath traded stories of their past, of their families, of their battles. Bronn's tales always ended with a laugh whilst Korath's were far more serious in their retelling.

More than once Vers suspected she saw the corner of Korath's lips tug skyward for the briefest moments as Bronn recounted his tales.

Vers also talked of her own battles and training. Although she was many years younger than the other warriors and had seen fewer battles, she could match their stories.

As evening settled, Mai had taken leave to return the children to their parents, and the stories took a turn. With wine and an absence of small ears, Vers grew more comfortable with her compatriots and ventured to enquire more directly about what had brought them both to Hæla. 

Bronn's tale was surprisingly simple, he had been young and looking for adventure. He went south to the Danelands, where he sold his skills with a sword as protection for traders on the road. He and the caravan he protected stopped in Hæla, where he went from sell-sword to soldier, but not before madly falling for the niece of the caravan’s leader. They settled together in the capital, the perfect midpoint from her homelands in the east, and the trading posts in the west.

Korath's tale was more woe-filled. He had been taken from his village in Numidia as a young boy, sold into slavery as a stable hand, then a miner, then a pit fighter. He was freed when the RusKree had held his master's city under siege. The Družyna had taken the city and freed the people in the name of the Empire and His Supreme Intelligence. 

"The General was barely a commander then, yet he stood proudly in the centre of the slave quarter. He spoke to us not as a prince but as equals; he gave us a choice, to stay and make our own way in the ruins or start a new life in Hæla, for the glory of His Intelligence and the Empire." Explained Korath, in the closest thing to wistful Vers could imagine him being.

"I remember," chuckled Bronn, "never had I seen someone so keen in signing up. Barely a heartbeat before this one walks straight up to the Prince and pledges his fealty."

"He saved us, he gave us our freedom, I saw no need to wait. I owe General Rogg my life. Through the Empire I have come to know the grace of His Supreme Intelligence and found my true purpose. For that I will be eternally grateful." Korath spoke with a respect and reverence that was almost tangible. It warmed something in Vers to know that Yon had found a genuine ally in the stern Korath. 

"I don’t think I’ve seen anyone take to training as quickly and as enthusiastically since. Well, except yourself your Highness." Bronn jovially addressed her.

“I doubt he was subject to Minerva’s rigorous methods?” jested Vers

“No, I was trained directly by Commander Bronn, as was the way.” Korath corrected her, either not understanding or not willing to entertain her slight towards the ruthless Commander.

“Korath also had the chance to train with the Accusers. Apparently he was sick of my ugly face and jumped at the chance when it arose.” Bronn teased his comrade

“That is incorrect. My group was assigned to accompany the Accusers on a mission, both groups trained together as it was the most reasonable compromise under the circumstances.” Korath stated factually, correcting their host. Vers smiled behind the rim of her cup at Korath’s complete oblivion to the jest at Bronn’s own expense. Or so she thought.

“And objectively speaking you are quite handsome!” amended Korath, causing her and Bronn to choke on their wine in laughter. She definitely saw a smirk on the dark man’s face this time.

Bronn roared with laughter, clapping the other man on the back, “Oh I will miss you my friend!” 

The phrase jarred Vers from her amusement. Was one of them leaving? If it was Bronn, was this why he had asked her to join?

“Are you going somewhere?” Vers asked casually, addressing neither in particular.

“Yes,” answered Bronn, sobering at the prospect. “In two days we march to Xandar, we go to free the capital. Korath will stay here with a couple of garrisons, I will take the rest. It was decided today by his Highness. So no more mountain adventures for us Princess.”

Vers wasn’t entirely aware of the full situation but she knew that this decision was not one that Yon would have made lightly. He must have caved to the pressures of others, or perhaps it was an order from the Emperor? Vers felt unsettled as the memory of the old man’s eyes staring at her after his miraculous recovery. She shook herself to be rid of the feeling as a shiver ran down her spine.

“Ah well, the last one wasn’t particularly successful in the end was it?” she said mostly into her cup, bitterly remembering the argument she faced when she recounted her findings, and the cold shoulder Yon had given her since.

“His Highness would have had his reasons to dismiss our suggestions and plans for the vigil.” Bronn gently replied. He was trying to spare her feelings and settle her, but it wouldn’t work. She knew what  _ his Highness’  _ reasons were, and the two loyal soldiers opposite her would not be inclined to commiserate with her.

Vers felt Korath’s watchful eyes on her. She didn’t want his judgement nor scrutiny.

“Will Commander Minerva join you?” She asked instead, quickly wanting to change the subject.

“She is already behind the borders of Xandar, she was dispatched when the first messenger came. She will join us when our forces reach Xandarian lands. She has been gathering insights into the enemy for us.”

Vers wanted to ask what else their spies had found, if they thought they would be successful and return home victorious, yet she held her tongue. Tonight was a night for fellow warriors to toast to success in battle and a swift victory. If neither was Bronn’s fate, then friends could have one last drink before he was welcomed into Valhalla. This was why she was here she realised, for a warriors’ send off.

“Then let us drink to your safe journey and swift victory against the Empire’s enemies.” Vers announced as she poured fresh wine into their cups. “Skøll!”

“Skøll” bellowed Bronn before he downed his drink.

“I am sure they will sing many songs of the mighty Bronn in the halls of Valhalla.” She smiled at his merriment, it almost seemed like home.

“So they should!” he laughed at her comment “But I will not be there to hear them. Instead I will join the Collective and bask in the grace of His Supreme Intelligence.”

“Does it not bother you that you will not be with your forefathers? Your family?” Vers asked before she had the sense to realise that this may not be the right company to openly question the RusKree faith.

“My family is here, in Hæla. If it is my fate, then I am ready to join the Collective. When their time comes they too will join me there and we will be together forever after.” 

Bronn had been gentle and patient in his reply, yet Vers could hear the undertone in his words. She may not believe but he did, and he was hurt by her questions. She could feel Korath’s eyes on her once more, this time with a burning accusation behind them.

“Of course. May it be many fulfilling years before they join you.” She tried to correct her mistake.

“I intend for it to be many more before I join myself!” jested Bronn, a sign she was forgiven.

Vers slowed her drinking, she did not want to risk speaking out of turn again. After a few more stories, she requested to call it a night. It was for the best for Korath to escort her to the palace, should he return and continue drinking with his friend and comrade, they could do so without her interloping.

The walk back to the palace was silent and eventless, with Korath bidding her goodnight in the main foyer. Vers went in search of his  _ Highness _ , cautiously optimistic that he may tell her more about the march on Xandar, but prepared for a snarling grumpy bear if she pushed. She wondered if he would accompany them, or be forced to stay here despite the Emperor’s recovery. 

As Vers walked the halls, she contemplated what she would do whilst she was left behind. The idea chafed her, the warrior within wanted to join the fight. She knew she wouldn’t be allowed. 

She definitely didn't want to be stuck inside the palace with the others instead. Maybe without Yon’s watchful eye she could plot a way to return home? Alas, Vers knew such an idea would be folly. It would mean the doom of her people through either starvation or slaughter.

Yet an escape plan out of this den of vipers couldn’t hurt, especially if her dreams were a warning from the Norns of something to come.

* * *

Yon had awoken the morning after his grandfather’s recovery certain of his decision, yet seeing the troops marching onward through the streets of Hæla left something gnawing in the pit of stomach. Perhaps he was simply unaccustomed to being left behind? 

He should be going with them. He wanted to, but he was needed here. More precisely, he had been advised to stay until the Emperor had fully recovered. 

His grandfather had always joined the troops on such advances, even when Yon’s own father was the commanding General, the Emperor had accompanied him into many battles. The Emperor had even been present more than once in the camps on the eves of victories which Yon himself had bought the Empire. So Yon struggled to understand why it was now that both of them needed to stay behind, but he acquiesced regardless.

If luck would have it he could sail in a week and meet their forces along the way, once the Emperor was well enough. It did not feel right, letting his men walk into battle without him. Bronn would guard and lead them well, ensuring that their brothers would come home. Yet Yon still felt like he was abandoning his post.

From the platform which had been erected especially for the military parade, Yon stood watching the procession with various ministers and the few remaining ranking military leaders who were to remain behind. Ronan was also present, although he would leave by boat in the morning with the Accusers. Vers stood proud and silent to his right. His aunt had preferred to stay with the Emperor leaving Vers to finally play the role meant for her.

Yon watched her from the corner of his eye as she took in the procession. She gazed at the troops with a mixture of awe and longing. He thought that she too would rather be riding out with the men than posing for the crowd. As she watched the troops march from the barracks through the citadel square and down through the remainder of Hæla past the crowds, he began to also note signs of apprehension in her posture. Her shoulders were stiff, and had started to creep backward in the subtle signs of a defensive stance. Her lips were drawn tight, the corners drawing downward, the seriousness of her countenance contrasting deeply with what he had seen shine her eyes moments earlier. 

A rider approached the platform, alongside the troops, drawing Yon’s attention from her. Bronn sat atop a tall chestnut steed, and bowed his head as he addressed those on the platform.

“General, Princess, Grand Accuser. The last of the men are preparing to leave the barracks, we should be done soon. Some have already begun to board at the lower docks, whilst others continue through the Gate of Victory. We will meet up with them further down the river once enough people have had their fill of us.” advised Bronn, he intended to ride with the troops through the gates of the city and on the road toward Xandar. A show of strength to the entire city and the surrounding areas of the Empire.

“Serve well and with honour, dear friend! I trust you will make us proud.” Yon stepped forward and extended his arm to his trusted commander. The pair embraced through a strong handshake, it was all the farewell they could display. 

“ _ Don’t cry too much for me princess! You’ll see these old bones one more. _ ” Bronn addressed Vers in their own tongue, causing her to smile. It had been the first genuine smile he had seen from her in days, a small pang of jealousy twisted inside of him, that it was his friend that had garderned such a reaction and not him.

With a final nod to them all, Bronn kicked his stead onwards, following behind Ætlass who was mounted on his own horse.

Whilst he turned to face the pair as they left, he continued to watch her as the smile quickly faded from her lips one Bronn was out of sight. Her eyes once more roamed the procession, and the previous discontent he had noted returned.

“What troubles you?” he asked her before he even realised he intended to speak.

She hesitated in her answer, his gaze drawn to her parted lips for a moment before raising to her eyes once more. She did not look at him, why should she when he had once again been so impatient with her recently? She had undeservingly borne the brunt of his frustrations over the past few nights, his bad mood affecting her own. His frustration with himself and his reactions compounding the problem. Perhaps they could both benefit from a sparring session, to alleviate the frustration of not joining the troops themselves? He lost himself momentarily in the idea of trapping her against him once more with his sword. In his distraction, he almost missed her response.

“They’re so… loud.” Her softly spoken answer confused him.

Yon’s gaze drifted over her, uncertain as to what she referred to. He followed her line of sight hoping to grasp a hint at what she meant, yet she still watched the troops as they marched down through the streets. He looked at the crowd which lined the streets of Hæla watching the regiments of troops march through the city. Whilst pleased, they were not loudly cheering nor overly celebratory.

He concentrated, listening at what could be the cause of her distress before it dawned on him. The rhythmic beating of boots and the subtle clink of mail echoed through the air around them, as the soldiers purposefully marched onward. The soldiers marched in groups of six by six, with space in between each battalion. As each new group passed, the noise increased, amplified by the buildings and mixing with the echo of those already winding through the city. 

Yon had grown so accustomed to the sound himself, he had not even realised that both he and Bronn had raised their voices to hear the other above the din. The sound had a purpose, its intent was to show might; to intimidate the enemy or in this case impress their own people as a show of strength. 

This was not a new tactic, he had seen her kin beat on their shields to intimidate the Saxons and the Normans on both the battlefield and when they lurked behind their poor wooden battlements.

“I guess I just didn’t realise there would be so many; that you had so many and still more to spare and guard the city.” she confessed at his continued silence.

He slowly began to understand. He had always taken for granted the might of the Empire. It was nothing to him, he knew their strength and power, the breadth of their domain. This was still so new for her. He had not blinked at the crowds or the thunderous cheers at her welcoming, where she had startled and seemed skittish at so many people. He had watched her stare wide-eyed at the size of the city as they had berthed and the few times he had accompanied her to the library and the temple in her early days, where he had only seen the familiar streets of his home. 

She was not used to the size of his world, even after these past few months. She stood on the podium next to him, staring down an army larger than she had even seen or possibly imagined, and all the while keeping a brave face. She no doubt was imagining what it was like to be against such numbers, instead of protected by them. She was intimidated and whilst she clearly refused to show it to anyone else, she had let him see a glimpse. This was more of a gift than any smile she could have graced him with.

He strongly felt the urge to comfort her, to place a calming hand on her back and soothe away the tension in her shoulders. Instead he placed his hand on her elbow, and gave a gentle squeeze.

“It will be over soon” he soothed when she looked at him. She nodded and he watched a small amount of tension fall from her, his own apprehension falling away with it. He thought to himself, with great amusement, that if the mighty Vers could be intimidated, then the Thanosians didn’t stand a chance.


End file.
